


Fashion Disaster

by andrhars



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Male Sheik (Legend of Zelda), Modern AU, cruelty-free, everyone wants sidon, idiots falling in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 44,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23162305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrhars/pseuds/andrhars
Summary: Link wants to take nature photographs.Sheik wants to teach judo.Naturally, fate (and their respective relatives) conspire to prevent them from doing just that, dragging them both into the ridiculous world of fashion!Will they survive?
Relationships: Kafei/OC, Link/Sheik (Legend of Zelda), Paya/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

It was late (or early, depending on what sort of person you are) when Link stumbled into his apartment, barely awake enough to carefully put his pack of camera gear down on the floor, and more or less collapsed onto his bed, fully clothed and asleep in seconds.

Blissful oblivion only lasted for what seemed like a few minutes before he was rudely awoken by the unnecessarily loud ringing of his phone. Muscle memory had him reaching for the phone where it was supposed to be, on the nightstand, and he was very confused for a moment until he realised the loud music, and oddly pleasant buzzing, was coming from the pocket of his jeans.

He couldn't see who was calling, his vision too blurry with sleep. His mind running as fast as syrup, he managed to slide the phone icon to the right and answer the call, barely remembering to put the damn thing to his ear.

"H...Hello?" he managed to groan with a voice like gravel. He cleared his throat and tried again. " _Hello_?" Nope, that was even worse. Now he sounded like gravel with bronchitis instead.

_"Sorry about the early call,"_ Zelda's voice spoke on the other end, sounding altogether insultingly chipper for the hour, which was surely an absurd one to be awake at, much less talking on the phone. To people. _"I know you just got back from the hike."_

"Hmm," Link grunted into the phone, trusting his sister to be able to understand his primal language.

_"I need a favour."_

Of course she did. Zelda never called unless she needed a favour. She usually stuck to texting or one of the billion messaging apps she kept forcing Link to install on his phone.

"Huh," Link grunted, hoping she'd understand his tone to mean _No shit you need a favour, you sleep vampire! You never call me otherwise!_

_"Long story short: I double-booked myself. Again. I swear, it's like the moment I put something in my calendar I forget it's there, and then I say yes to something else without checking."_

Thereby neutralising the whole point of having a calendar, Link wanted to say, but he knew it was futile. It was a discussion they'd had too many times to count and he wasn't willing to hash it out yet again. It never worked. Not permanently, anyway.

"Hah," he said. It turned into a yawn. He briefly lifted his phone away from his ear to look at the watch. 4:03 AM.

He'd barely been asleep for twenty minutes.

Zelda was lucky they were siblings, or this would've been grounds for the termination of their relationship.

_"Anyway, I would, of course, honour my original agreement, but I only just realised I had it when I got on the plane."_

Link gritted his teeth. Here it comes, he thought.

_"You know that fashion show at the gallery today?"_

Oh for...

"Today?" he asked, sounding like he should be keeping a crypt. Even Zelda heard the tone and hesitated.

_"Yeeaaaaah,"_ she said, really elongating the word. _"Short notice, I know, but then I only just realised it myself, you know? And I wasn't able to call you until the plane landed. Which it has, and now I have called you. What would you have preferred, that I call later and give you less than an hour's notice?"_

"Yes," he growled.

_"Oh. Oops?"_

"What's the job, Zel?" he asked, keeping his eyes closed. He didn't need his eyes to get the details.

_"The fashion show,"_ Zelda said.

"That's the _where_. I need the _what_."

_"Just...photograph the damn runway, okay? Wide angle and close shots! Some of the hottest new names are going to be showcasing their collections, and I've been commissioned by Modish to get photos of each."_

Link considered saying no, leaving his sister to desperately go through her contact register and beg some of her freelance buddies to cover for her. Their fees would be huge, though, especially at such short notice. It'd serve her right. Maybe finally give her some incentive to keep proper track of her schedule.

Ah, to never have to answer one these phone calls again...

But then, Link had never been the type of person who could say no, especially not to family. Especially not to Zelda. The curse of a twin sister.

"Fine," he said. "But I want double my usual fee."

_"No problem!"_ she said brightly.

Damn. He'd maybe sort of hoped that would discourage her. Clearly, he wasn't demanding enough compared to her friends. He made a note to ask Urbosa what she usually took for short-notice gigs like this. Probably hell of a lot more than what Link charged. She was highly sought after in conflict zones.

"And cupcakes."

_"You got it!"_

"And...and free reign of the TV when we're at dad's."

Zelda fell silent for a moment. _"Link, you know I can't give you that. The remote fight is a sacred tradition. We can't just throw that away!"_

Mostly because _you_ always win, Link thought bitterly.

"Fine, but...can we at least watch something _other_ than horror films?"

_"You'll have to conquer the remote for that to happen."_

"Eugh...fine, then get me a souvenir from wherever the hell you are."

_"Absolutely! Was going to get you one anyway! So, we got a deal?"_

Link considered it for a second. He could say no. He really could. Except he couldn't. He'd feel good about it for a few minutes, and then the guilt would start gnawing at him.

He groaned again. "Fine," he said. "When is it?"

_"It starts at noon, so you should be good for at least a few more hours of sleep! I'll mail you the details. Also, remember to stop by my office—you'll need the badge."_

"I know, I know," he said, yawning. "Is that all?"

_"That's all,"_ Zelda replied, sounding happy...and definitely a little relieved. _"Thanks Link, I really appreciate it. I'll try to get better at my scheduling, I promise."_

"You've said that before. How about hiring an assistant?"

_"I'm not sure I'm ready for the responsibility of having an employee."_

"You've had plenty of practice with me."

_"Sibling employees don't count, and—hm, what? Oh, right. Sorry, Link, I gotta go, our cab's here. I'll mail you the details, okay? And don't forget the badge! Bye, love you!"_

"Lov—"Link managed to say before the line went dead. He sighed and, after setting an alarm four hours later, went back to sleep, dreaming of setting fire to Zelda's office.

* * *

Sheik and his enemy stared into each other's eyes for a long, silent moment. The air was still, and in the silence one could hear the sound of a pin dropping. Sheik flexed his hands, saw the enemy do the same.

His opponent was larger, weight-wise, but Sheik had speed and flexibility on his side. It was all a matter of finding the right moment, and—

The enemy moved, rushing forwards. Sheik met him head-on. Large hands grasped at his clothes, but he twisted his upper body so they only gripped thin air. In the same movement, he hooked his foot around his opponent's heel and, with another twist, lifted them off their feet and slammed their back into the floor, their air leaving their lungs with a loud "Oof!"

Someone whistled, and Sheik stepped back, adjusting his gi, letting his red eyes roam the similarly clad students around them, sitting in a ring.

"It doesn't matter if your opponent is bigger than you," he said, pointing at the man still lying on the floor, panting. "You get your technique right, you'll have put 'em in the ground before they even realise you've got the upper hand."

"On the ground."

Sheik paused, letting his eyes land on one of the younger students. "Pardon?" he asked.

" _On_ the ground, sensei," the kid said, looking more than a little terrified at correcting his teacher, but apparently so committed to this path now that he couldn't stop, like a runaway freight train. "You said 'put them _in_ the ground'."

"I don't hear a difference," Sheik said after holding the kid's gaze for a long moment. "Anyway, like I said, it's all about technique." He stalked over to the college-aged guy he'd just annihilated and leaned down. "Come on, up you get. This is no time to be asleep."

"Just...catching...my breath, sensei," the student replied, eyes wide.

"Easier to do when standing, come on," Sheik said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. To his credit, the student only wobbled a _little_ before gingerly seating himself at the edge of the circle. "Anyway, that was pretty cool, wasn't it?" he asked, to which his students nodded. "And it's just physics put into action. And that's I'm going to teach you: physics. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be able to any uppity bastard into knots with little to no effort."

He grinned, and then he remembered. The schpiel.

"Oh, right, and it's only for exhibition, yadda yadda, possibly self-defence but only if absolutely necessary, etcetera etcetera, yeah? Got it? Good!"

He clapped his hands together.

"All right, stand up and separate into pairs! We'll go over the basic movements and how to maintain balance, because without that you're not flipping anyone but yourself! First watch me and my stance, and then try to mimic it. Look at each other and see if you're doing it right. I'll be going around and correcting."

There was a collective intake of breath, and only a little terror in the air as his students did as they were told. Ah, there was his reputation at work again. Excellent.

"Right, you," he said to the closest student. She was about fifteen, a bit on the short side, and her partner was...quite a bit bigger. "You're standing wrong. If he comes at you and you're standing like that—you're toast!"

"Yes, sensei," she said nervously.

"Look at me," he said, assuming the standard opening position a few paces away. "You'll want your back heel planted firmly on the ground; your knees slightly bent. That'll let you correct yourself if the big bastard—no offense, kid—rushes you and tries to knock you down. Little does he realise that by the time you're within arm's reach, and you're standing like this, he's a dead man walking. Figuratively speaking—we're not learning this to kill each other, after all, haha!"

"Haha!" she responded obediently, clearly not sure of what else to do. She did, however, correct her stance, and got it mostly right.

Sheik helped her fix the angle of her heel, and then had her partner (her older brother, as it turned out) try to push her off balance. It mostly worked, though he overpowered her in the end, but it only failed because Sheik hadn't shown her how to divert the opponent's momentum correctly.

Ah, but he had lots of time to mould this girl into a perfect little kill—er, judo machine.

And so the introductory lesson continued. By the end of it, he was fairly confident most of the students would be coming back. Especially the fifteen-year-old girl. She'd gotten a taste for blood, he could tell. He looked forwarding to teaching her how to kick so much ass.

He was in the small reception area of his dojo, saying goodbye to the newcomers and, begrudgingly, humouring parents about their kids' prowess when Sheik spotted _him_.

He tried to be stealthy, but there was no mistaking that flash of purple hair. Sheik knew only one person who'd deliberately choose that shade, and he had no desire to talk to him right now.

He hurriedly ended the conversation he was having with a quick "See you next week, we'll keep developing your footwork!", and went for the glass doors leading into the dojo. If he could get inside and lock the doors, he could head out through the back, hopefully avoiding—

"Hi cousin!"

Fuck, too late!

"Kafei," he said, plastering on a fake smile and turning around to face what could be described as the bane of his existence. "Long time no see."

Kafei, his elder cousin by three years, had a big, genuine smile on his face, looking positively ecstatic to see him, not even hesitating to reach out and pull Sheik into a tight hug.

Sheik had to fight every instinct in him not to throw Kafei to the floor.

Knowing Kafei, he'd easily counter. They'd both been taught the art since they were old enough to walk, but only Sheik had gone into teaching himself.

Kafei, on the other hand, had chosen a different path. One that, somehow, kept coming back to haunt Sheik. He had a feeling it was about to do so again.

"So good to see you again, Sheiky," Kafei said when they separated, first studying Sheik in his gi, and then the dojo. "You look good, and so does your place! Aunt Impa checked it out yet?" He stepped inside the dojo, carefully removing his shoes and leaving them outside in the reception area.

"Not yet," Sheik said, following him inside after making sure the reception had been cleared of students and their parents. He noted the lack of a certain person who usually shadowed the purple-haired harbinger of doom. "Where's Paya?"

"At home," Kafei said, taking a stroll around the dojo, looking at the wall scrolls and other decorations. "It's her day off."

"I see."

That was disappointing. It had been a while since Sheik had seen his other cousin, and...well, truth be told, he'd hoped to show her his dojo and maybe have a little sparring match, like when they were growing up. She'd been just as enthusiastic as Sheik, but hadn't gone into teaching, but security.

"Anyway," Kafei said, turning around and clapping his hands once. "I've got a favour to ask!"

There it was. Of course he did. It just wasn't a Kafei visit without him ruining Sheik's day somehow.

"Yeah?" he asked, folding his arms sceptically and giving Kafei his least impressed stare. "What?"

"You know, my business is really picking up steam these days," Kafei said, playing with the cuffs of his dark purple suit jacket. His whole suit was purple, matching his hair. Sheik was surprised at how subtly he was dressed tonight, in fact. "Getting all kinds of show offers."

"So I've heard," Sheik said, his gut suddenly feeling like it was teetering on the edge of a cliff, below which there was only oblivion...or perhaps just a series of sharp rocks. Either way, falling would be unpleasant. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Kafei said, grinning. "And this upcoming show is the biggest yet! All the big designer houses are sending representatives there to scout for talent!"

"Exciting," Sheik said, nodding. "Your big chance, I'm guessing?"

"You know it!" Kafei looked like he was about to start vibrating with excitement. Sheik felt his stomach moving just a little further over the edge, practically hanging off the side now. This couldn't be good. "And, as it happens, disaster has struck! Kiro, my main model, is sick with the flu, and I need someone to cover for him!"

Oh.

Oh no.

"No," Sheik said. "Forget it."

Kafei's face fell, his lips turning down in an exaggerated pout. "But...but cousin! I need your help! I don't have anyone else to turn to!"

"You're a fashion designer," Sheik said sharply. "Surely you have an entire stall full of models who can take his spot?"

"No one with Kiro's measurements," Kafei said, and Sheik could _tell_ when his cousin was using his mental measuring tape to evaluate someone. He felt naked under that gaze, and he hated it.

Mostly because Kafei was disturbingly accurate when measuring by eye.

"I'm not doing it," Sheik said pre-emptively. "I have a business to run!"

"Oh? You do lessons on Saturdays?" Kafei asked, gesturing to the reception. "Your website says you only do weekdays."

"It's...a special lesson," Sheik tried, but he knew it was futile. Of _course_ Kafei had done his research before coming. "Fine, there's no lesson, but I have a date!"

"Oh?" Kafei said, suddenly looking very interested as he skulked (literally skulked) up to Sheik, giving him a look that could best be described as sleazy. "How exciting—what's his name? Where did you meet? What does he do for a living? How long have you been going out? Have you done it yet? Have you told Impa?"

"What, about doing it or dating someone?" Sheik asked, ignoring the bright red blush that had erupted on his face at Kafei's mention of _it_. Twenty-two years old, and he was still unable to talk about sex openly.

"Dating someone," Kafei said, rolling his eyes. "I sincerely hope you're not regaling Aunt Impa with tales of your sordid sexual history, cuz."

Of course, Sheik didn't have a date either. It had been an emergency attempt at deflecting Kafei's recruiting efforts, but...his damned cousin had always been able to figure out when Sheik was lying.

It didn't help that Sheik was a terrible liar in general. He couldn't help it. Stealth and subterfuge weren't his forte—he preferred beating the living shit out of whatever problem came his way.

"O-Of course not!" he sputtered. "That's disgusting!"

Kafei laughed. "Of course it is!" He then fixed Sheik with another analysing gaze. "You're still single, aren't you?" he asked. "There's no date."

Sheik glared back at him. "Fuck you," he hissed.

Kafei laughed again. "Knew it! Come on, if you're not busy Saturday, why don't be you be my model?"

"Because I don't want to!"

"Fine, fine," Kafei said, sighing theatrically. "I suppose I shall simply have to do the show _without_ my centrepiece, the creation I have put all of my heart and soul into for the last six months. I suppose I shan't be picked up by one of the big houses, my business forced to languish in semi-obscurity for the rest of my career...or even worse, go destitute!" He kept his eyes on Sheik the entire time he spoke.

Sheik held his gaze for a moment after the schpiel. "No."

Kafei harrumphed and dug around in his jacket's pocket for his phone.

"Okay, fine! I guess I'll have to make some calls..." He paused, eyes widening a little...and then he smiled like the cat that caught the canary. "Say...how about a bet?"

Sheik shook his head. "Forget it."

"Oh, come on!" Kafei exclaimed. "A quick spar! You and me! Just like the old days! If I win, you'll be my model!"

Predictable. Sheik dug himself in. "No way—there's nothing I want from you, so..."

"I'll let you throw me around in front of your students for a month!"

Sheik paused. Now there was a tempting offer. Throwing Kafei around had always been great fun when they were kids...and, honestly, how good would Kafei even be these days, busy as he was with his career. Probably hadn't practised in years. And the idea of using his cousin as target practice and kicking his ass up and down the mat in front of his students for a month...oh, that'd be so good.

And hell, Kafei probably still knew the basics, so Sheik could probably wrangle some assist lessons out of him, too.

Hm.

Yeah.

This was risky, but the reward...

"Fine," he said, gesturing to the ring at the centre of the dojo. "But we do it right here, right now."

"My thoughts exactly," Kafei said, excitedly shedding his jacket. His shirt was purple, too. And his tie. Because of course they were. He rolled up his sleeves and took off his socks.

Sheik raised an eyebrow. "You can borrow a gi, if you—"

"No, no, don't worry," Kafei said, doing a couple of squats, checking the give in his trousers. "Pant are a little tight, but I can work with this."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely," Kafei said, giving him a thumbs-up.

"All right, then..."

They faced each other from opposite sides of the ring. Sheik tightened his black belt and assumed his favourite stance, which Kafei mirrored. They'd both been taught by the same teachers, and they'd always had similar styles.

"So, how're we doing this?" Kafei asked, his face serious. "First pin?"

"Sounds good to me," Sheik said, not expecting this to take very long. "Unless you want to do two out of three?"

"Nah, that'll take forever," his cousin said. "First pin it is."

"Good."

They watched each other for a long moment. Then they began circling each other, studying their opponent's movements. Kafei wasn't moving as smoothly as he did in their teenage years, and it wasn't just the lack of give in his pants that were hampering him. Sheik fought down the urge to grin. The idiot hadn't practiced or trained at all.

This would be an easy win.

Even an opportunity to show off a little. Prove to his cousin that he'd surpassed him after so many years.

He lunged, which prompted Kafei to respond. Their hands met mid-air, trying to grasp each other's wrists. Kafei's fingers nearly grasped Sheik's, but he jerked out of the way just in time so all his cousin caught was the sleeve of his gi.

Sheik, on the other hand, managed to grab Kafei's wrist, and immediately used that to his advantage, pulling and pushing at Kafei to bring him off-balance. To his credit, Kafei's footwork was still quite good, managing to keep himself steady and not about to stumble unless Sheik did something else.

Kafei grunted, momentarily losing his footing when Sheik tugged as hard as he could, using all of his weight, but he regained it quickly. "Good one," he said, leg suddenly sweeping behind Sheik's in an attempt to take him down. Painfully obvious, and Sheik sidestepped it easily.

"That wasn't," he said, giving Kafei his most obnoxious grin. "Dulled over the years, have we?"

"Evidently," Kafei grunted, looking annoyed. Then he suddenly pushed at Sheik with all his strength, actually forcing Sheik on the back foot.

And then Kafei's hands locked around Sheik's wrists.

Shit.

They pushed and pulled for a moment, neither of them gaining any ground, trying to sweep and hook each other's legs out from underneath each other, but neither got a proper move in.

And then Kafei decided to stop pretending.

Sheik saw the switch in his eyes, and instantly realised he was in trouble. He tried to disengage, but his cousin's grip on him was like iron. For a moment, it was like they were back in the ring as teenagers. Kafei grinned at him, and then the world was tilting and whirling around him.

Sheik's back slammed into the mat, knocking the air out of his lungs.

Huh, there were a lot of cracks in the ceiling of his dojo.

Wait, what?

"I do...believe that's...my win," Kafei said, panting as his sweaty, smug face appeared above Sheik. "My model!"

Sheik stared at him, trying to fill his lungs with air, and the realisation dawned upon him. "Oh, fuck me," he muttered, covering his face with his hands. "You played me!"

"Like a damn fiddle," Kafei said unapologetically. "Come on, you thought I was that rusty? You don't think Paya tosses me around the ring every other day to keep me sharp?"

Oh, for...

Sheik suddenly felt like crying.

"Aw, come on, cuz," Kafei said, patting Sheik's hand. "You can't blame me for deciding to rig things in my favour a little, right? I'm a desperate man! But say, I'll add in a little bonus in addition to your modelling fee, okay? You know those cartoons you like so much?"

Sheik drew in a breath. He did _not_ sniffle.

"They're called _anime_ ," he hissed.

"Cartoons, anime, whatever!" Kafei exclaimed. "Get me a character sheet, and I'll make you a replica outfit, yeah? You can wear it to one of those conventions! I'll guarantee that you'll have the most accurate costume there!"

Okay.

That made him feel...a little better.

"I want snacks," he added. "Lots of them."

"You got 'em. After the show, of course. Can't have you bulging anywhere."

"I hate you. So much."

"Love you too, cuz."


	2. Chapter 2

Zelda's office, which also served as her photography studio, was a damn mess. Supplies and equipment littered almost every available surface, her desk overflowing with papers and contracts, and folders full of photographs she'd taken. They were beautiful shots, truly. Link's sister was one of the best photographers he knew, but in everything else she was one of the least organised people he'd ever met.

"Badge," he muttered, trying to sort through the clutter on her desk, hoping to catch a glimpse of the laminated piece of paper that would give him entry to the event. One of the folders fell to the floor, spilling pictures everywhere.

Eugh, he was operating on far too little sleep for this shit. He'd fallen asleep quickly again after ending their late-night call, but his alarm had rudely woken him up after what felt like less than twenty minutes that masqueraded as four hours.

He briefly considered cleaning it up, but...nah. Zelda could deal with it when she got back. They weren't negatives, so she could develop them again.

Something flashed in the fluorescent lights, something metal, connected to...a lanyard. He moved a thick-looking contract, and underneath it lay the badge, granting the holder entry to the exclusive fashion event's photo pit.

There were no personal credentials on the badge, only the name of Zelda's studio: Trifocus Photography.

That was good; meant he wouldn't have to argue with security at the show and have Zelda vouch for him in some unnecessarily complicated way.

What a relief, he thought as he hung the badge around his neck. And he hadn't had to spend _that_ much time searching for the badge.

He smiled; that meant he had time to grab a proper breakfast before heading to the show.

Double-checking his camera bag, he grabbed a couple of memory cards from a small bin on Zelda's desk marked "Blank". He had plenty of empty cards in his bag, but one could never have too many. He also swiped one of Zelda's collapsible tripods. He doubted he'd have time or room to use it, but he liked being prepared. It fit neatly into his bag, so...

Locking up the office, he sent a quick picture of himself holding the badge to Zelda, as proof that he was doing her the favour he'd promised. She sent him back a big smile emoji, and a text message promising him all the cupcakes he could possibly eat when she got back.

That made him smile a little wider. Oh, she had no idea what she and her wallet were in for.

He took the elevator down to the underground parking garage and got on his motorcycle, which he'd named Epona. She was a sleek, beautiful sports-type bike, with green and blue detailing. He'd saved up for years to get her. Her engine purred as he started her up and put his helmet on, ensuring his bag was secured to his back and not about to fall off or flap about, and left the garage.

He stopped by a cafe on the way, getting an extravagant breakfast consisting of a cheese-covered, cheese-filled croissant and some sort of deli meat he wasn't entirely sure what was. He kept the receipt so he could charge Zelda for it later.

The location for the event wasn't far from Zelda's office or the cafe, luckily.

Located in the middle of the expensive street in the shopping district, it was a tiny mall that only catered to the truly high-end brands. The sort of place Link usually wouldn't set foot in unless someone held a gun to his head, and even then he'd struggle.

At least parking wasn't a pain as it usually was in this part of town. Flashing his badge at the attendants by the entrance to the garage granted him entrance, and he was pleased to see plenty of spots where he could place Epona, most of the regular spots taken up by the vans of the designers and larger camera crews...as well as security for the models.

He parked and locked Epona using a heavy chain on her back wheel (one could never be too careful) and made for the elevator, waving greetings to a camera crew he knew from downtown. They waved back.

The elevator door nearly slid shut when someone suddenly shouted, "Hold it, please!"

He barely managed to wedge the tip of his sneaker into the door, preventing it from closing, and a familiar, green-haired girl gratefully scurried inside.

"Thanks," she breathed. "These elevators are so slow, it's like—oh, Link, hi!"

"Saria," Link managed to say before he found himself with an armful of girl, her arms wrapped tightly around his middle, squeezing painfully. "How are you?"

"Oh, I'm good, I'm good," she said, stepping back and looking at him with a huge, happy grin. "Surprised to see you here, though. Let me guess, Zelly double-booked herself again?"

"Got it in one," Link said, nodding. "And you? Not really your usual haunt, these gigs."

Saria laughed.

"Really isn't, huh? Nah, I'm not here by choice, really. Mido forgot about the event entirely and didn't have any spare crew to cover it, so I got the job. Not that he's interested in any of the proper fashion, of course. He just wants me to take pics of the _weird_ stuff, you know? Gotta give his rag something to make fun of; like _millennials are ruining fashion_ or something like that."

Link nodded. Yeah, that made sense. Mido was, ostensibly, a friend, though he hesitated using that term. He was more of a mortal enemy, really. Link had worked for him _once_ , and that was more than enough for him to know he never wanted another go at it.

How Saria put up with him was beyond Link's ability to understand. He could only assume she had some dirt on him.

"So," Saria said as the door finally slid shut and they were on their way up, "any good jobs lately?"

"I was just up in the Death Mountain range, actually," Link said, immediately eager to tell her about his hike. Saria was a nature photographer at heart, just like him, and they'd instantly bonded over it when they'd met years ago. "Took a bunch of pictures of one of the local wolf families." He reached for his camera, realising too late that he'd left that memory card at home. "Damn, I'd show you some, but..."

"Aw, that's okay," she said, patting his arm. "Why don't you mail me a couple of the ones they don't end up using? You always get the best shots!"

"I will!"

There was a cheerful ding, and the elevator opened up into pure chaos. The lobby area of the mall had been converted into a catwalk, with line upon line of chairs surrounding it save for a narrow strip directly around the stage which served as the photo pit. Those seats were only small, back-less benches.

A big, burly monster of a security guard in a suit stood in their path, giving them and their camera bags a cursory glance. "Photos? Badges, please."

"Kokiri Mail," Saria said, showing her badge to the guard, who scanned the QR-code with his phone and, after a moment, nodded and waved her in.

"Trifocus Photography," Link said, letting the guard scan his badge as well.

"All right, you're good," the guard said, standing back. His name badge said _Daruk_. "Press area is over there," he said, pointing towards the photo pit. "Seats are first come, first served."

"Thank you, Daruk," Saria said brightly, grabbing Link's wrist and dragging him towards the pit. "Come on, I want the good seats!"

Link allowed himself to be pulled along, trusting his friend to take the lead on this. He just wanted to take photos and go home, and possibly get some more sleep.

He hated events like these. Models were snooty and the designers were crazy. Everyone was so wrapped up in the supposed _glamour_ that they didn't realise just how ridiculous it all was. Oh well. It was just for a few hours, if everything went according to schedule. He'd grit his teeth and bear with it.

And then go wolf down a buffet somewhere. The event was catered, so maybe he'd have his fill there.

"There, right there!" Saria said, pointing to a pair of empty seats near the front corner of the catwalk, increasing her speed and bowling aside a pair of photographers like they were nothing. "Come on!"

Link just let himself be carried off by the force of nature that was Saria.

* * *

The atmosphere in the backstage area of the show was uncomfortable to say the least, especially with the looks Sheik got as he made his way towards the dressing rooms (really just repurposed mall admin offices). The looks came from both models, designers, and other crew members as he walked past them, hands in his pockets and his hood pulled up to cover his head. Maybe it wasn't the hoodie itself, but the roaring tiger print that dominated the back of it.

Well, they could fuck off. Tigers were awesome—he'd named and styled his Dojo's logo after them! And who the hell were they to judge him when they wore, at best, DIY projects for a living anyway? He could do the same thing with a hot glue gun and bedsheets!

They probably saw right through him; that he wasn't a _professional_ in the industry, like them. Hah, like he'd ever want to be part of this club anyway!

But then...

This was an opportunity to give them a middle finger and knock 'em all down a peg! Sheik wasn't a model by profession, but damned if he wasn't just as good, if not way fucking better, than any of them! He was going to show these amateurs how this shit was done!

He stuck his nose in the air and straightened his posture, striding purposefully through the backstage, heading for the office door with Kafei's designer house's name on it.

Shinobi Designs.

Simple and easy.

Just like Kafei.

He chuckled at his own joke, marching past the arrogant bastards around him and finally reaching the door, surely giving the most dignified and arrogant walk of his life.

That is, until he tripped over a stray power cable that hadn't been taped properly to the carpeted floor and nearly slammed his face into the door itself. Luckily, he managed to shift his weight and spin around, so that only the back of his head crashed into the door.

Ow.

He leaned against the door and pulled his hood off, rubbing the spot where his skull had connected with the hard wood, knowing he'd get a lump there, ignoring the amused looks and badly concealed laughter from those who'd seen him (which was pretty much everyone in the hallway).

"What're you looking at?!" he snarled. "I'll show you—"

He was cut off as the door he leaned against opened inwards, and he was suddenly lying on his back, staring up at the confused face of a suit-clad Paya.

The hall outside was filled with howling laughter now, and Sheik could only give her a pleading look and ask, "Pull me in?"

She obliged him, swiftly dragging him inside and shutting the door, blocking out the laughter.

"That was certainly an entrance, cousin," Kafei said from behind a desk, where he seemed to be making last-minute adjustments to one of the outfits. The small office was cramped and filled to the brim with models, clothes, and designers, all employed by Kafei.

"I enjoy a good spectacle," Sheik replied as Paya pulled him to his feet, ignoring how his face was burning with embarrassment.

"You okay?" Paya asked, looking him over.

"I'm fine," Sheik said. "Mostly embarrassed. How're you, Paya-nee?"

"I'm fine too," she said, smiling and patting his cheek affectionately. "You look good. How's the dojo?"

"It's great," he said, grinning excitedly. "You should drop by sometime. We can spar!"

"I'd like that."

"Touching reunion!" Kafei shouted. "But I'm afraid we'll have to cut it short—we've got work to do!" He paused. "Oh, right, introductions! Everyone, this is Sheik! He'll be replacing Kiro for today! Sheik, this is everyone! Ask them if there's anything you're confused about!"

There was a quick round of hellos, and Sheik didn't catch anyone's names. Everyone was too busy with their work, anyway. Outfits were being prepped, models were getting their makeup and hair done, and Sheik was no exception as he was hounded into a chair and immediately assaulted with a variety of beauty-enhancing products.

"Hm," Kafei said, popping by to inspect. "His eyes need to stand out more. Put some eyeliner on him. Not much, just to make them pop a little."

"I am _not_ wearing eyeliner!" Sheik protested.

So there he was, desperately trying not to flinch as a makeup artist was putting eyeliner on him, hoping the day wasn't going to end with him getting his eyeballs poked out. All the while, someone was running their fingers through his hair and the sensation wasn't all that comfortable.

"What about this?" the hairdresser asked, tugging at Sheik's locks. "There's no time to cut it."

"Just braid it," Kafei said. "It'll work well with the outfit. Gives it a naughty look."

"Naughty wha—"Sheik tried to ask, but then something was sprayed in his face, choking him.

It was just a whirlwind of activity, of people pulling Sheik's hair, smearing stuff on his face, and taking his clothes. His beloved tiger hoodie was ripped off and tossed somewhere, his jeans tugged off by someone he couldn't see because he was forced to tilt his head back at neck-breaking angles so the hairdresser could get the plait right. He supposed he should consider himself lucky they didn't grab his underwear at the same time!

"All right, hair's done!"

"Get him over here!"

Still blinded from the spray, Sheik was pulled out of the chair and dragged further into the office.

"Right, get the baby powder!"

"Baby powd—?"

He really should have stopped talking as he probably inhaled a metric ton of powder that was suddenly everywhere around him.

"What the hell are those? Get those boxers off!"

Oh no, not his boxers too!

"Seriously, Sheik, ducky boxers?"

"I like duckies!"

"Right, off they come!"

Sheik was immensely grateful he was blind at the moment and couldn't see just how many people he was just exposed to. Luckily, it didn't last long as something else was pulled on him covering him up again. The material was soft...though a little constricting.

"Ah, perfect," Kafei's voice said. "What do you think, Sheik? Oh, oh dear. Will someone wipe his eyes, please? I think we blinded him."

Sweet relief for his eyes arrived in the form of a wet cloth, and he was finally able to open his eyes again...revealing that he was standing in front of a full-length mirror. His hair looked fantastic, braided simply but elegantly, and it smelled like...like _beauty_ itself.

Now, if only he wasn't wearing panties, he might not have found this whole thing so bad.

He opened his mouth. "What the fu—"

"Here, put this on!"

More activity as Kafei's minions surrounded Sheik, starting to force him into various articles of clothing. His legs were forced into long, black stockings that ended just above his knees, and then into a pair of knee-high, high-heeled pleather boots. A short skirt was then hastily yanked up and around his waist, leaving a great deal skin between the hem of the skirt and the top of the stockings visible.

His arms were yanked up and forced into what seemed to be a long-sleeved pleather bolero with straps crisscrossing his torso, which were tightened to painful degrees. The bolero had a high, popped collar, around which a black-and-white scarf was tied in the style of a sailor uniform.

"How about a bow? Should we give him a bow?"

"I dunno, seems a bit overkill, don't you?"

"I thought the whole point of this _was_ to be overkill?"

"Hm..."

As the discussion between Kafei and his minions continued, Sheik could only stare into the mirror at the travesty of an outfit he was wearing. It was like...like...

"What do you think?" Kafei asked, noticing Sheik's analysis. "Beautiful, right?"

"I'm...wondering about what mistakes I made to land me in this situation," Sheik said slowly, trying not to focus on what was, essentially, a thigh window. "What I did to deserve this."

Kafei sniggered. "Oh come on, Sheik! You always pretended to walk the catwalk when we were kids! This is just the culmination of your childhood fantasies! You always pretended to be a model—what's so different now?"

"Because I wasn't imagining myself wearing what could best be described as a schoolgirl outfit for leather bondage enthusiasts!" he exclaimed, glaring at his cousin's reflection.

Kafei gasped, looking immensely offended. "Excuse _you_!" he hissed. "I don't use leather! My collection is one-hundred percent cruelty-free!"

"Oh, I'm sorry," Sheik hissed back. " _Pleather_ bondage enthusiasts!"

"That's better," Kafei said, his scowl disappearing. "I refuse to entertain that sort of talk! My pleather comes from purely recyclable plant material! Fruit skins, apple cores, and other food waste processed into a very passable— _from a distance—_ leather alternative! No plastic bullshit here!"

"No plastic bullshit!" his minions repeated, like a bunch of red-eyed zombies.

Sheik stared at Kafei for a long moment. "I'm wearing _compost_?"

"Pretty much!" Kafei said brightly. "Still chafes like a bastard, though, hence the baby powder!"

Sheik felt like crying. Looking in the mirror, he caught a glimpse of Paya, who stood guard by the door. She gave him a very sympathetic look. Why hadn't she warned him?

"Now," Kafei said, clapping his hands and looking Sheik up and down. "Outfit fits you perfectly. You and Kiro are identical in size. I'm so pleased!"

"I'm not," Sheik muttered.

"Shush, models are meant to be seen, not heard," his cousin said, pulling and tugging at the clothes. "Hm, the skirt is a bit long. When you're out there, make sure you do a fast twirl so they can see the panties too! They're viscose, also cruelty-free!"

"What is the matter with you?!"


	3. Chapter 3

The show was well underway now, and Link was pretty sure he wouldn't have made it through without Saria there to keep his spirits up with running commentary on some of the, frankly, insane creations that were being displayed.

"...and here we have a girl wearing what appears to be a pile of lampshades stitched together into...well, a pile of lampshades," Saria said, sounding like a sports commentator as she took several shots of the model strutting down the catwalk, looking none-too-amused by what she was forced to wear.

Then again, to Link, all models seemed to be perpetually pissed off. Given the things they had to wear in public, he didn't really blame them. He dutifully raised his camera took several bursts along with a carefully angled and focused ones when the model reached the end of the catwalk, posing in a way that must have been supremely uncomfortable with the lampshade frame digging into her skin.

"I wonder if they bought all those lampshades new or if they got people to donate their used ones," Saria said as the girl disappeared backstage.

"Probably donated," Link said. "None of those shades looked new."

"Hah, true. Maybe—snrk, oh my god."

Her face screwed up into a delightful grin as a young man walked onto the stage...wearing what Link could only assume was a blanket that had been sewn into a dress. And not a thin blanket, either. One of those winter blankets meant to absorb and retain as much as physically possible. It looked supremely uncomfortable, and Link couldn't even begin to imagine how sweltering the poor model was underneath it. He could only lift his camera and take more photos of the horror.

"Look at that thing," Saria said, suppressing her giggling. "Must trap farts like a champ."

Link snorted.

"Seriously, I bet it just collects in a gas pocket, and unleashes it all in one go when it reaches critical pressure and saturation, killing everyone unfortunate to be in the same room when it happens."

Link couldn't suppress his laugh at that, and neither could Saria as they broke down into giggles, earning themselves ugly looks from the people around them (and the model, who glared down at them).

"S-Sorry," Saria said, waving. "Go about your business."

The model looked supremely offended, but remained professional and did his job, giving a surprisingly elegant twirl and turning back towards the curtain area.

It was getting hot in here, between the stage lights and the big crowd stuffed into a small place, and Link was forced to unzip his hoodie lest he wanted to pass out from the heat. Next to him, Saria snickered.

"What?" he asked.

"Nice T-shirt," she said, pointing at his graphic tee. "Didn't think I'd ever see one of those in the wild."

"What's wrong with it?" Link said, looking down at the stylised print of three wolves howling at the moon. "I think it's great!"

Saria gave him a look that bordered on pitying. "Oh, Link," she said, "never change."

"Wasn't planning on it?" he said, confused.

She laughed and ruffled his hair.

" _Next up is a brief peek into Zora Sportswear's upcoming collection!"_ the announcer said unnecessarily enthusiastically. _"Let's see what we can look forward to strutting about in on the beaches this summer!"_

The atmosphere in the room changed a little, and more cameras were brandished (especially among the onlookers). Of course, that was to be expected. Swimwear and the like were bound to draw more attention than couch cushions sewn into an outfit. Especially on models who tended to look like athletes.

"Right, time for the hot stuff," Saria said with the same enthusiasm reserved for things like root canals. "Mido definitely wanted pics of this, in case of accidental exposure and stuff. He's such a creep sometimes."

"That's Mido," Link agreed, adding a bookmark to the camera's file system so he could keep the designers and brands separated. "Why are we friends with him, again?"

"Me, he pays," Saria said. "I don't know why _you_ bother, though. You haven't done a job for him in ages. You know, you're not _obliged_ to keep his contact information or respond to his social media posts."

Link didn't have a good answer to that. Luckily, the conversation ended as the lights grew a little brighter, and the Zora Sportswear models appeared on stage. Young men and women in excellent shape walking back and forth, wearing very little. Unlike most of the other designs Link had seen today, Zora Sportswear didn't bother with experiments or daring. They just showed off what they intended to sell that season.

Bikinis were definitely their main focus, it seemed, along with skimpy trunks for men. More like short shorts, if you asked Link. Not that he minded—at least these outfits made sense. He snapped several shots, making sure to get the models at the best angles and lighting, showing off their beautiful physiques. Too bad about their facial expressions, though. Still the same old sourpusses.

"I still don't understand why they're not allowed to smile," he said. "Surely a happy-looking model is a more convincing sales argument than one that looks like you've pissed in their cereal."

"Most people like being considered dirt by beautiful people, I guess," Saria replied, shrugging. "I don't get it either. I mean, look at that girl—her scowl is completely at odds with the happy coral print of that skirt. Imagine her smiling or at least pretending to be happy she's at the beach!"

"Yeah," Link agreed. "That'd be an improvement."

_"And as a special treat, Zora's lead designer, Mipha, has decided to give us a tiny little peek into her new fall collection, which is inspired by the royal houses of old,"_ the announcer's voice sounded over the speakers.

"Oh, great," Saria said, rolling her eyes. "Royalist drivel. Like we need more of that."

"Just inspired by," Link pointed out. "I don't think it's meant to be a statement of longing."

Saria made to say something else, but she caught a glimpse of the next model, her jaw dropping.

"Link..." was all she could say, and Link followed her gaze...

...and saw what was very likely the most beautiful man in the world. Tall, athletic, and a face that looked like it had been chiselled out of marble, and a grin so bright it outshone the floodlights of the stage. His hair was long and dark red, gathered into a loose ponytail that reached the middle of his back, where it blended perfectly in with the fabric of his jacket, which was the exact same shade.

His outfit appeared to be inspired by old military-style royal uniforms, though with entirely different colours, with silver-coloured details. It fit the model perfectly and showed off every curve of his athletic build like it was just a second layer of skin...or, like Link's brain suggested, that he wasn't wearing anything at all.

The model stopped at the end of the runway, posing heroically, still grinning like he was the damned sun, his beautiful golden eyes roaming the room like he intended to give every single person there a personal moment. He then raised his fist, shaking it, and then giving everyone a thumbs-up, like he was telling everyone he believed in them. His grin brightened even more, if such a thing was even possible, light glinting off them in a blinding display.

Around him, Link realised the room had gone completely silent save for the obnoxious music...and the clicking of hundreds of cameras as they all drank in this beautiful god of a model.

"Link, you may want to take some pictures of this one," Saria whispered.

Fuck! He'd been so entranced by the Zora model he'd forgotten his job entirely. Link hurriedly raised his camera and put it in burst mode, hoping to get as many pictures as possible.

The model seemed to have noticed his delayed picture-taking, and gave another pose, looking at Link the entire time with a huge smile.

Like it was just for him.

Then he gave a little twirl, and disappeared from the stage, leaving Link gaping like a fish.

The tense atmosphere of the room lifted considerably after that, and Link had a feeling there were quite a few spectators who'd likely need a quick trip to the restroom right about now.

"Phew," Saria said, looking through the pictures she'd just taken on her camera's screen. "You know, maybe having a royal family wouldn't be so bad if it meant we got to have someone like _him_ as a prince."

"Yeah," Link said, still trying to recover from having seen what he was quite sure was an avatar of the gods walking among mortals. He made a mental note to get the model's name and to see if he had a fan club.

...maybe he liked to go hiking?

* * *

"...and step...and glower...and turn...and walk back. Steady pace." Sheik muttered to himself as he watched a recording of Kiro, the model he was replacing for the day, on his phone. In the video, Kiro strutted his way along an imaginary catwalk in what seemed to be some sort of practice room. There was no sound, and even if there was Sheik wouldn't have heard it over the loud music and excited crowd on the other side of the curtains.

Kafei had insisted that he at least try to emulate how Kiro had been practicing, since Sheik had never actually modelled before, and should have some semblance of a routine to go through one the catwalk.

So here he was, waiting for his turn while the Zora models strutted about in swimwear, his scandalous outfit thankfully covered up with a huge bathrobe (also viscose, apparently) that hid all the details from view. He didn't like the silky feel of the robe. He didn't. He _could not_. He highly doubted he'd have the nerve to stand around in plain view of the other models who, despite wearing less than he did, didn't look nearly as perverted.

A few of Kafei's other models were gathered in a huddle nearby, none-too-subtly looking and pointing at the various outfits and the people wearing them, as well as at the red-haired woman directing the Zora models. Apparently, that was Mipha, the chief designer for the brand.

Sheik didn't care. He was about to make an idiot of himself in front of a few hundred spectators and fuck knew how many cameras, he needed to steel himself.

He did notice that someone extremely tall walked past him, however, and a flash of red as they went out onto the catwalk after being announced as something special...he thought. He really wasn't paying attention, focusing once more on Kiro's routine. No problem, honestly. He just had to get that sour expression right. No fucking problem, he thought, screwing up his face, pretending he'd just caught a whiff of Kafei's gym bag during their teenage years.

Man, years later and he could _still_ smell it. It was like the scent had been imprinted on his mind's nose.

"What're you watching?"

He didn't jump.

He _didn't_.

He nearly dropped his phone, sure, but that was for entirely different reasons. A lack of potassium, or something, momentarily causing him to lose his grip on the phone. That's what happens when he's not allowed to eat anything the day before the show.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the interrupter said. "I didn't mean to startle you!"

"It's fine, it's fine," Sheik said, embarrassed about his sudden lack of martial arts instincts that _should_ have told him someone was sneaking up on him. "I was just watching a routine and...and..."

As he looked up...and up...and up at the speaker, he realised he was in the presence of a god. There was no other description of the huge, red-headed model smiling down at him with a mouth full of shiny, white teeth. He was dressed in a red military-like uniform that matched his hair, and a lot of silver accessories that, on anyone else, would've looked gaudy.

On him, though, it was...princely.

Fuck, it should be illegal to be this good-looking.

"Oh, I think I know him," the redhead said. "Hiro...or something, right?"

"Kiro," Sheik corrected him.

"Yeah, that's it!" Redhead looked around. "I was actually expecting to see him today, but..."

"He's sick," Sheik said. "I'm filling in for him today."

"Oh, so you work for Shinobi too?" He held out his hand, shaking Sheik's very energetically. "Nice to meet you, I'm Sidon!"

"Sh-Sheik," he said, managing to stumble elegantly over his own name like a fucking idiot. This was clearly not his day. He cleared his throat. "I'm just filling in today, I don't usually model."

"Oh, I see!" Sidon said, like it was the most exciting thing he'd ever heard. "Well, they certainly picked a good substitute!"

Was that a compliment? Sheik wasn't sure, and he was hesitant to take anything models said at face value, even from someone like Sidon.

"Uh...thank you?"

"You're welcome!" Sidon nodded. "So, if you don't model full-time, what _do_ you do, exactly?"

"Oh, I'm a judo instructor," Sheik said.

Sidon's golden eyes widened. "No way! Really?!"

Sheik couldn't help but laugh a little. His reaction was just so...genuine. "Yeah," he said. "Got my own dojo and everything."

"How exciting! What rank are you?"

Huh.

That was the first time someone (who wasn't into judo themselves) had asked him that. How unusual.

And refreshing.

"Oh, uh, second degree black belt," he said.

"That is so cool!" Sidon exclaimed. "I wouldn't have guessed! Doesn't it take years of training to reach that rank?"

"Depends on how fast you progress, really," Sheik said, suddenly feeling very out of his depth. No one usually wanted to talk about this other than his students, or possibly their parents. "I've been taught since I was a toddler, so..."

"Fascinating," Sidon said, and it actually didn't sound sarcastic, which is pretty difficult to pull off with a word like _fascinating_ , which attracts sarcasm like a moth to a flame. "So how did you end up substituting for a model?"

Sheik nodded towards the sound setup, where Kafei was talking to someone he assumed was the showrunner.

"My cousin is the lead designer and CEO of Shinobi. He asked me for a favour, and I couldn't say no."

He didn't mention he'd tried, and gotten his ass beaten in his own dojo for it.

"What a coincidence!" Sidon said, pointing to the red-haired woman from Zora. "Mipha, the lead designer for Zora, is my older sister! I model for her part-time!"

Mipha must have noticed she was being stared at, looking up from her phone and waving to Sidon and, after a moment, fixing Sheik with the deadliest glare he'd ever received. Oh, there was pure hatred in that gaze. Amazing, how much loathing could be contained in such a small body. Sheik didn't like his chances if he were to face Sidon's sister in the ring, regardless of how little experience she might have in fighting. He'd be a dead man.

"Oh, so...you're not a full-time model either?" Sheik asked, relief filling him instantly once he looked away from the black hole that was Mipha, and into Sidon's eyes instead. Fuck, they were gorgeous.

"Nah, I'm just doing this to pay my way through college," Sidon said proudly. "I'm studying marine biology!"

Fuck, now _that_ was cool. Way cooler than what Sheik had studied (business management). But wait...if Sidon was in college...

"That's very impressive," he said. "But um...do you mind if I ask...how old are you?"

"Nineteen!" Sidon replied.

Oh, thank Din, Sheik thought.

"So you're a sophomore, then?" he said hurriedly, so his question wouldn't sound so suspicious.

It had, hadn't it?

"That's right," Sidon confirmed. "And yourself? If you don't mind my asking, of course. Models can be a little touchy about that question..."

"I don't mind," Sheik said, happy that Sidon hadn't gotten caught up on why he'd asked. "I'm twenty-two."

"We're quite close, then!" Sidon said, looking excited. "Say, would you be—"

"Sidon!" Mipha called from across the room. "Dressing room! We need to get you out of that suit!"

Sheik didn't need to look at her to know Mipha was giving him another death glare. Overprotective was an understatement.

"Ah, duty calls," Sidon said, shaking his head and turning away, to Sheik's immense disappointment. "By the way," the model slash marine biologist added before going, "there's a very cute Hylian photographer near the end of the catwalk, next to a green-haired girl. If you give him a little extra attention, I'm sure you can make him faint. It was very nice to meet you, Sheik. I hope we can talk again later. Maybe at the after-party?"

"Y-Yeah, sure," Sheik said, staring at Sidon's retreating back until he disappeared into the admin area. Oh, if he could be a fly on the wall as he was peeled out of that outfit...

"Yoo-hoo, earth to Sheik," Kafei's obnoxious voice spoke as a hand was waved inches away from his face. "You in there? We're up in a few minutes. You ready?"

Sheik shook his head, stomach lurching as he realised what was about to happen: the most humiliating moment of his life.

Eugh.

Well, if he was about to embarrass himself, he might as well do it with style. If he was going out there in a pleather schoolgirl outfit, he was damn well going to pull it off like a fucking queen.

"As ready as I will be, I guess," Sheik said, glaring at his cousin. "So, I'm last?"

"Yeah, you're the main attraction," Kafei said with a wink.

Paya was there too, carefully taking Sheik's phone and putting it into her pocket for safekeeping. "I'll take care of this while you're gone," she said.

"Remember," Kafei interrupted, "twirl at the end of the catwalk. I hand-stitched those panties myself, and I want to show off my work."

Sheik suddenly felt the urge to vomit.

* * *

Link returned to his seat beside Saria, handing her a bottle of water, all the while chugging down his own. The heat had gotten unbearable, and that last Zora model hadn't made things cooler by staring at him like that. If he hadn't known better, Link would've assumed it had been an attempt at flirting.

"Thanks," Saria said, drinking some water as well. "I'll never get used to the heat at these places. I mean, the woods can get pretty hot too, but at least you can count on the wind to cool you down a bit..."

"Mmm," Link hummed in agreement, screwing the cork back on. "Who's next?" he said, looking at the schedule Zelda had sent him.

"Minor brand," Saria said. "Shinobi Designs. Based on Sheikah culture, apparently. Kinda ninja-inspired stuff, I think? Lots of black fabric."

"Well, ninjas _are_ cool," Link said, adding another bookmark to his camera's album. "And maybe we'll see something _practical_ from them."

Saria snorted. "Tall order, Link. Tall order indeed. Though I guess if we can get people to walk around dressed like ninjas, we as a society are heading in the right direction."

"If only," Link said with a sigh. Personally, he'd stick with jeans and T-shirts if he could, but he supposed a casual ninja outfit would be nice too.

The lights brightened again, and a music track that incorporated a mix of modern rock with traditional instruments like shamisen began to play.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, a rising star on the fashion horizon has graced us with his presence today!"_ the announcer said. _"Lead designer of Shinobi Designs, Kafei, is here to show us that we can all be deadly shadows in our day-to-day lives!"_

"Do they write those blurbs themselves, or is it up the announcer to improvise?" Link asked with a huff.

"A little bit of both, I think."

And true enough, Saria's prediction came true. Shinobi designs only employed Sheikah models, apparently, and Link had to admit they all looked striking, with their vivid red eyes, dark skin, and silver hair as they strode along the catwalk dressed in 21st century ninja wear.

There was a lot of fishnet, on both the male and female models, which Link had nothing against whatsoever. A lot of the outfits involved hiding the lower parts of their faces, too, which probably wasn't going to be popular with law enforcement if they made it into mainstream fashion, but...then again, ninjas were cool, damn it!

"Yeah, I'm good with a ninja society from now on," he whispered to Saria, who only nodded wordlessly as she kept snapping photos. None of them would be of interest to Mido, who only wanted stupid-looking outfits or salacious ones. Link had a feeling those pictures were solely for Saria's enjoyment.

Link didn't blame her. The models cleared off the catwalk, and for a moment it seemed like that was all Shinobi had to show, but then one last model appeared...and it was like the whole room held its breath.

As did Link.

Because fucking hell, the most gorgeous creature he'd ever seen came strutting down the catwalk, looking absolutely confident and knowing of his sexuality.

And his outfit...

Link suddenly felt parched again, finding it very difficult to swallow as the model swayed his hips in time with the music, giving everyone a half-smirk that spoke volumes of how much he knew they wanted him.

The skirt...the boots...the thigh-high socks exposing the perfect amount of skin... There was no shirt, only a leather bolero attached by straps criss-crossing the model's torso, showing off his toned upper body, where muscles rippled sinuously with each movement, almost rhythmically to the music. His hands were covered by half-gloves that looked incredibly impractical but completed the outfit in a way Link couldn't even describe.

His hair was braided into an elegant ponytail that reached his shoulder blades, which bounced with each step he took.

At this point he wasn't even taking pictures. He could just stare at the Sheikah as he reached the end of the catwalk and, with another smirk, did a fast twirl that caused his short skirt to flutter...and reveal that he was wearing a pair of silky panties underneath it.

It was gone from view as fast as it had appeared, but the image was burned into Link's mind.

He tried to swallow again.

Was he drooling?

He was drooling.

"Link..." Saria warned.

Shit.

Link once again brought up his camera in burst mode, just as the Sheikah did another twirl.

Score!

And, as with the Zora model, their eyes met. But unlike the Zora model, Link couldn't read the Sheikah at all. There was nothing in those eyes, negative nor positive.

* * *

Sheik couldn't believe his eyes. Was that photographer wearing a t-shirt with the three wolves howling at the moon graphic? How the fuck had he even been let inside?

Sheik didn't much care for fashion in general, but even he knew that you just didn't _wear_ that shirt. _Especially_ not in public!

Moreover, he'd felt that photographer's eyes on him the moment he walked onto the stage, and frankly he felt those two eyes infinitely more keenly than the hundreds of others around him.

Not to mention...wait...

Was...

Was he _drooling_?

He was drooling.

Disgusting. Just Sheik's luck to catch the attention of the biggest pervert in the place. A pity, too, because the blonde Hylian _was_ kind of cute. Pity about the shirt. And the drooling. And the vacant look on his face as he did so.

The green-haired girl next to him elbowed him in the side, and the photographer seemed to wake up, suddenly raising his equipment and taking lots of shots.

Sheik considered walking away without giving him anything...

...but...

...oh, what the hell. Might as well give the sad bastard something to get flustered about.

Sheik smirked the way Kiro had in the video and did another twirl. Embarrassed as he was to wear this outfit, it also made him feel a little powerful, knowing he had that sort of influence over a person just by flashing a bit of fabric.

It was nothing compared to throwing people around in a judo ring, of course, but he could see why professional models enjoyed this kind of thing.

* * *

The model smirked again and did one last twirl (Link snapped more pictures) before walking off the stage, leaving Link to gape.

"Yikes, Link," Saria said as the music died down. "Do you need to go the restroom for a bit?"

Link shut his mouth (jaw clicking), glaring at her. "No, I do not," he said, crossing his legs.

"Whatever you say," his supposed friend giggled. "Want me to send you the pics I took of that last Sheikah?"

Link glared at her for a long moment before muttering a defeated "Yes."


	4. Chapter 4

The moment he stepped behind the curtain, Sheik felt like all his energy was sucked out of him, leaving him slightly wobbly as he was mercilessly pulled back to the dressing rooms by Kafei and his little army of minions. Sidon, sadly, was nowhere in sight, presumably still held captive by his older sister. Not that Sheik had time to mourn the loss of the tall model, as Kafei's mouth was running at a mile a second.

"...and the twirl! _The twirl!_ It was better than anything I could possibly have imagined! And when you did it twice?! Sheik, my most beloved cousin, how I can ever thank you enough?! I'm pretty sure every single man and woman in the audience needed a moment to themselves after that! The pictures will be astounding!"

"Uh-huh," Sheik mumbled, thinking back to that Hylian in particular. He'd definitely need a moment, Sheik had a feeling.

"And that smirk—it was just like Kiro's, only _better_! Fuck me, it even got _me_ a little hot under the collar, and that's—"

"Disgusting and illegal," Paya said from somewhere to Sheik's left, her hair bobbing among the sea of minions. "Please don't think about your cousin that way, kafei."

"Of course not!" Kafei said with a huff. "I was just trying to make a point."

"Please do so without the incest."

"Paya, stop cramping my style!"

"Kafei, stop corrupting our baby cousin."

The next few minutes were a blur as Sheik was, once more, stripped down. This time, though, his carefully folded normal clothes were handed to him, and then he was directed to the small office bathroom.

It was the first moment he'd had to himself since setting foot in the mall, and now, as he was coming down from the natural high from being on stage, he found himself thinking back to what he'd done.

He'd flashed his panties.

Not once.

But twice.

Not at a single person.

But at a room full of them.

The second time specifically for a creepy, drooling pervert.

He took a deep breath. This was fine. He wasn't going to see any of these people ever again. A one-off thing. He was done now, and could go back to his normal, ass-kicking life as a martial arts instructor, and never have to worry about...

...the photos.

Oh, Din save him, there were going to be so many photos spread everywhere! He knew how the internet worked! He'd be thrown up on so many image boards and subskims!

And, worst of all, Impa would see them! His aunt was an avid follower of all her kids' careers (even Kafei's), and there was no way in hell she was going to miss his biggest event so far!

"My life is over," he muttered, staring at his haunted expression in the mirror.

He needed a knife.

The only honourable way out was seppuku.

There was nothing with which to accomplish that in the bathroom, though. Well, he supposed he could break the mirror, but there was no guarantee and of the shards would be sharp enough or big enough to do the job. No, he'd need one of the tantos that decorated the wall in his office.

...but that'd mean facing people outside of the bathroom.

And that wasn't an option.

No, he'd have to seal himself in here and starve himself to death. Self-mummify, like those ancient monks. Couldn't be that hard, right? Sure, he didn't have that fancy paper they used, but toilet paper would suffice, surely? Paper's paper, and all that. People said that, didn't they?

His life-ending train of thought was interrupted by a gentle knock on the bathroom door.

"Sheik?" Paya's voice asked, muffled. "Are you okay in there?"

"Oh, perfect!" Sheik said, only slightly hysterically. "I just made a fool of myself in front of a few hundred people in a way that I'll never live down, but otherwise I'm good!"

"Can I come in?" she asked.

He wanted to say no, but he'd never really been able to deny Paya anything she asked for. Mostly because she rarely did ask for anything at all. After all the ways she'd pulled his and Kafei's asses out of the fire over the years, he doubted there was anything she _could_ ask for that he wasn't willing to give at a moment's notice.

And that included letting her into the bathroom.

Where he was still only clad in the silky viscose panties.

Because apparently Sheik's brain was committed to destroying his dignity today.

To her credit, Paya didn't even blink when he let her inside the small bathroom, merely taking up position in front of the door, leaning against it. It was unfair, how good she looked in a suit. And intimidating. She was scary even without knowing she was a black belt as well. When she put on those aviator sunglasses, you'd have to be a braindead idiot to even think of approaching her.

Or Sheik.

His name was practically a synonym for that now.

Anyway.

Panties.

Still wearing them.

And only them.

He quickly turned away, face erupting with heat as a massive blush blossomed on his cheeks, and he hastily threw on his jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie. Only when he spotted his boxers still laying on the lid of the toilet did he realise he'd forgotten to remove the panties first.

This was just a real fucktangular day, wasn't it?

"You okay?" she asked, and it didn't even sound like she was holding back laughter. He turned and found her giving him a sympathetic look. "Overwhelming, huh?"

He couldn't contain the single burst of a high-pitched laugh. "That's one way to describe it," he said. "I can never show my face in public again! Why did I do that?!"

"You were caught up in the moment," Paya said calmly. "You're hardly the first model it's happened to."

"Oh, so every model decides to flash their panties at the crowd at some point in their careers?!" He laughed again.

"Maybe not _every_ model," Paya conceded. "But there have been more than a few incidents where wardrobe has 'accidentally' failed at a show. It generates a great deal of buzz for both the model and the designer, and in this world, it doesn't really matter where the PR comes from. At least you didn't show anything...untoward."

"Is this you trying to make me feel better, Paya-nee?" Sheik asked, eyeing the mirror. Wouldn't take more than an elbow strike to break it, he reckoned. "Because it isn't working!"

"I'm just saying," Paya said, still calm as a cucumber, "that what you did was _nothing_. It will barely be a blip on the radar. Besides, I'm quite sure we can, hm, convince people not to publish those photos. We have our ways."

It was in moments like this that Sheik realised that he didn't know exactly _what_ services Paya provided in addition to general security and bodyguard ones. She'd always taken more easily to the seedier parts of Impa's web of contacts, and it wasn't unthinkable that she had the power to do...very unpleasant things to people if she so chose.

And that...made Sheik feel a little better. Yeah. She could stop if anyone tried to publish the unseemly photos.

"That one Hylian, though," Paya continued, "I'm not sure about him. We'll need to look into it. There's no telling what _he'll_ do with the photos he took."

And there went Sheik's good feeling.

"Come on," Paya said, taking him by the arm and gently leading him out of the bathroom. "You can think about this later. Right now, we have a party to get ready for."

"Party?"

"Yeah, designer and crew party, remember? It's a way to build connections and the like, share a few drinks with colleagues, eat some food—"

"There's food?" Sheik asked. "And booze?"

Paya laughed. "Lots."

That cheered Sheik up immensely. If he could _finally_ eat something (that is, empty the buffet) and then drink himself into oblivion, he might just make it through the night. And not want to kill himself the day after (well, maybe he still would, but then it'd be because of the hangover).

His good mood lasted until Kafei, in a moment of pure evil, asked, "Acquired an appreciation for the silkier things in life, have we?" and gave Sheik a wink that bordered on obscene.

Paya jabbed him in the solar plexus for that.

Sheik laughed.

* * *

There was an afterparty for the show. There always was, apparently, and as a holder of the Trifocus press pass (how the hell Zelda had managed to wrangle a press pass rather than just a photo pass, he'd never know), he was welcome to attend.

He couldn't imagine anything worse.

Being stuck in a room with a mountain of alcohol, bad catering, and a bunch of people he'd been more or less ogling (though on his sister's behalf rather than his own...with two notable exceptions) was the furthest thing from his idea of a good time. And if he ran into the model from Zora or that Sheikah...gods, he'd have a heart attack.

So instead he elected to head home and get a head start on sorting through the photographs he'd taken.

Saria, however, had other plans.

"We haven't hung out in forever," she announced, poking him in the chest. "We're going to my place and having dinner, and then we'll talk about what a disaster you are for actually turning down an opportunity to party with not one but _two_ models you have the hots for!"

"I don't have the hots for them!" he exclaimed defensively. "I just...really liked their outfits!"

"Uh-huh," Saria said, cocking her head to the side. "So you slobbering all over those bulging panties, that was just...an aesthetic appreciation? I could believe that with the Zora model, if he weren't the single most attractive man I have ever seen in my life, but the Sheikah? No, Link. If you were an anime character, you'd be dead from blood loss on account of the _massive_ nosebleed that'd erupt from your face like a busted fire hydrant."

Link stared at her for a long moment. "Now that was just unnecessary."

"Nope, totally necessary!" Saria said happily, grabbing his jacket and pulling him towards the elevators. "Come on! I need a greasy-ass pizza and a shitty horror movie to digest today! You came in on Epona, right? You know the way?"

Link nodded. Fighting Saria when she'd decided on something was like trying to resist a hurricane. You were welcome to try but you'd get blown away no matter what. Might as well let it carry you off without struggling.

Things ended quicker that way.

And, well...

Link liked pizza.

* * *

The party was a hive of activity as designers, models, producers, editors, journalists, even the odd film director all mingled and shook hands, making connections, agreeing to lunches that could make or break their careers for years and decades ahead. It took place in some sort of event room deep in administrative section of the mall, far from the prying eyes of the public, like it was some sort of secret affair.

Which it probably was. Sheik's ears picked up on more than a few discrete future contracts being discussed by the people around him, even over the loud, pounding music that he felt in his chest. He didn't pay it much mind, however, focusing on consuming the buffet that, Din above, someone _definitely_ hadn't spared any expense on.

The open bar was just perfect dot over the i that was his current quest: to take back all the calories Kafei's insane diet had denied him for the past few days, and to drink his own weight in booze so he could forget The Thing That He Did on the stage. At the moment he was shovelling sushi rolls into his mouth with both hands at a pace that left some onlookers staring at him with gaping mouth, to which he simply stared back and held out a roll.

"Want one?" he asked, mouth full.

The onlookers excused themselves with looks of horror, leaving Sheik to demolish the buffet on his own, which suited him just fine. Weakness was not to be rewarded with delicious food.

He washed down his huge mouthful with about half a glass of wine (from his magazine of seven), belching like a perfect gentleman: loudly and proudly, chuckling a little to himself at the looks of disgust a pair of passing models shot him.

Weak. As if he was even close to the most disgusting individual they'd come across in _this_ industry.

He chuckled again and turned to his left, intending to grab some spring rolls next...and coming face to face (or, rather, face to chest) with Sidon. He'd changed out of his princely outfit (to everyone's immense disappointment), and was now wearing a three-piece suit, though without the jacket.

It should be illegal to look as good in a waistcoat as he did.

It should _also_ have been illegal for him to sneak up on Sheik while he looked like a gremlin trying to make itself explode with food.

Well, it was nice to have given Sidon the _illusion_ that Sheik wasn't some sort of troglodyte that belonged in the deepest of caves, hidden away from the world and sunlight.

"Hungry, huh?" Sidon asked, unleashing a smile so bright and happy it was blinding despite the presence of at least three disco balls and a laser machine in the room. "So am I."

If Sheik's appetite had been considered impressive, Sidon's was _legendary_. Granted, he ate with far more refinement and finesse than Sheik could ever hope to achieve, but the _amount_ he put away in a few minutes dwarfed Sheik's by far. Granted, the man was much taller and bigger, but _still_!

"Sorry about that," Sidon said after a few minutes spent eating in companionable silence (where every second passed about as quickly as a decade to Sheik, who did not understand what he was seeing...or how Sidon was even deigning to occupy the same vicinity as Sheik). "My sister puts me on a pretty insane diet and exercise regime in the weeks before a show. This is the first time I've eaten carbs in a while. Lost control." He laughed at himself, still grinning. "How about you?"

Sheik, having only spent the last couple of days on a diet, suddenly felt ridiculous. "Er...same," he said. "Though...not weeks. Just...days."

He just couldn't find it in himself to lie to this man. There was just something about him that discouraged the idea—and it wasn't just because he was gorgeous.

"Ah, but you're not used to this sort of thing, right? And as a martial artist, I'm sure you have a little more leeway in what you eat since you burn a lot of it every day." Sidon said that like it was a super interesting fact...and not just Sheik sometimes subsisting entirely on junk food and pastries whenever he didn't feel like making something properly nutritious.

"Yeah, something like that," he said, which was mostly true and therefore not a lie.

Not a direct one, anyway.

"Well, either way, you certainly looked good on the catwalk," Sidon pressed on, sipping gingerly on a glass of wine he stole from Sheik's magazine. "I wasn't expecting such a...bold design. Your cousin's other creations seemed a little more restrained."

"I'm still not entirely sure this wasn't just a big prank he pulled on me," Sheik admitted, tossing a glare in Kafei's direction. He was deep in conversation with a bunch of fellow designers, probably throwing around ideas for how he could humiliate Sheik even further.

The bastard.

"If it _were_ a prank," Sidon said firmly, "it backfired. You had everyone's attention while you were on the stage, and it was all positive." He looked around before leaning a little closer. "Did you spot the Hylian?"

"I did," Sheik said, nodding. "He was drooling."

"He wasn't the only one," Sidon said with a chuckle. "Cute though, no? In a sort of fish-out-of-water way. That T-shirt of his..."

"Don't get me started," Sheik said. "I don't know anything about fashion, but even _I_ know that's the epitome of anti-stylish."

"Mipha has threatened to banish me if I am ever seen wearing one," Sidon said, grinning evilly when he then admitted, "I have a version with a dolphin, a shark, and a whale, all swimming together under the moon. It's beautiful."

Sheik snorted. "I can only imagine."

As the minutes passed by and the small talk continued, Sheik felt himself relaxing more and more. Probably because of the booze, but also because talking to Sidon was...fun. And not at all stressful, like he found most conversations with strangers.

Honestly, the younger man's voice was hypnotic in itself, and Sheik could listen to him talk about marine biology for hours.

By the time he looked at his phone's clock, he realised he _had_ , in fact, done just that. Boy, the mating habits of various sea creatures was terribly fascinating when the one explaining them was very likely heaven-sent.

"...and that doesn't even begin to describe whales," Sidon said. "Did you know that a blue whale produces over four-hundred gallons of ejaculate?"

Sheik did not know that, and he conveyed his surprise by almost spraying his mouthful of wine all over Sidon. Luckily, he managed to turn his head aside just in time, so that the only casualty was the tablecloth of the buffet table.

And some of the buffet.

Oops.

But that wasn't important; the fact he'd just learned _was_.

"Four-hundred gallons?!" he exclaimed. "Holy shit! That's almost enough to quench Kafei's thirst!"

As if on cue, his cousin's voice immediately responded, "No, it isn't!"

Sheik glared at him and shouted back, "That's why I said _almost_ enough whale cum!" Kafei made an obscene gesture, which Sheik returned and then turned back to Sidon. "So, about the whale sex..."

"You must have a very close relationship to be able to make such jokes," Sidon said with a hint of awe on his face. "Mipha turns into a tomato if I even as much as _hint_ at the word 'mating'."

"You could use that as revenge for the diet and exercise regime," Sheik suggested, suddenly feeling a little uncertain as he glanced about the room. He couldn't spot Mipha anywhere, which was either a good sign or a very bad one. One because she just wasn't there. The other because she might be standing _right behind him_. Sheik didn't dare look.

Sidon nodded. "I suppose I could...but that wouldn't be fair, really. I mean, yes, she puts me on the regime, but she follows it as well as a show of solidarity. She doesn't make me do anything she wouldn't do herself."

"How admirable," Sheik said. "My cousin decided to eat a box of donuts in front of me on day two of my diet. I was _this_ close to strangling him."

"Kinky!" Kafei shouted.

Something broke inside Sheik, and he very calmly gave Sidon a gentle smile as he said, "Excuse me for a moment, please. I have a cousin to murder."

* * *

Sheik awoke the day after to the worst hangover he'd ever experienced. The sort that makes you wish you could travel back in time to find the first people who figured out how to make alcohol and kill them so they can never spread their evil throughout history. In the lack of a time machine, though, he spent the day curled up in bed, feeling very sorry for himself.

He was still wearing the panties. The energy required to remove them was far beyond what he could muster at the time, however, so they stayed on.

At least they were comfortable.

When he felt like his head wasn't about to explode at the sound of a pin dropping, he dared to go through his phone. There were the usual emails from his students' parents, all asking him to make sure he devoted extra time to their precious little gremlin, a few texts from Kafei thanking Sheik for his efforts and saying that he could keep the panties (Sheik deleted those immediately). Paya had also sent a text telling him to make sure to drink lots of water when he woke up.

There was also, surprisingly, a new entry in his contacts.

That was interesting. Sheik usually managed to keep his hands off his phone when he was drinking, which he considered a very good thing since it limited the chance of drunk texts or other embarrassing things.

But here he'd apparently added a new contact. He scrolled down until he found it...and his stomach gave a lurch.

Sidon.

He'd somehow managed to get Sidon's number, along with a very blurry photograph of the two of them grinning like idiots at the camera. And the name...Din above, how drunk had he _been_? He'd given Sidon's contact the name "The Fish Prince".

As if on cue, another text came in. It was from Kafei.

**So? How'd things go between you and the Zora guy? I will be expecting details, the more copious the better!**

Sheik groaned and buried his face in his pillow, wishing he'd never agreed to his cousin's proposal.


	5. Chapter 5

Link immediately knew it was Zelda who was calling, because he'd set her personal ringtone to the evillest bit of death metal he could find. The dread the music made him feel was still _nothing_ compared to seeing her name on the caller ID, because, again, Zelda never called unless she was about to make him suffer immensely.

_"Hi, little brother!"_ she said cheerfully the moment he picked up. She sounded far too happy.

"Hey, Zel," he replied. "What do you need?"

She gave an offended gasp. _"A sister can't call her brother without needing something?"_

"Normal sisters, sure," he said. "You, on the other hand..."

_"That's hurtful, Link. Very hurtful. Dad didn't raise you to be like this."_

"No, he did not," Link agreed, nodding as he opened another folder filled with his nature photos, having only just now found the time to actually take a look at the ones he took on his last hike. It really was typical that Zelda would call right now. "You made me into this."

_"The world's best and brightest little brother who makes his sister so very happy?"_

"That's an interesting way to describe it." Link opened a particularly good shot of the wolf family he'd been tracking. So damned cute—the pups were getting so big now. He marked it as a favourite, adding it to the folder he intended to send to his usual clients. "Again, what do you need, Zel?"

Zelda sighed on the other end. _"Okay, look...you remember those pics you took for me at the fashion show last week?"_

"How could I? Those cupcakes were delicious."

She laughed. _"Of course that's the bit you'd remember. And here I was sure all your thoughts would be with that one Sheikah model. You know, the one in the skirt? Or maybe you preferred what was_ _ **under**_ _the sk—"_

"Zel!" he exclaimed, wishing she'd never even started that sentence.

_"Aw, come on, Link, you have no idea how much I laughed when I opened up that folder and found at least a hundred upskirt shots of him. I mean, yeah, it was a_ _**great** _ _view, but I didn't expect you to like it that much."_

This wasn't happening. This really couldn't be happening. His sister could not possibly be haranguing him about the shots he'd taken of the Sheikah, most of which had been in burst mode. It wasn't like he'd taken individual damn shots!

_"And don't think I didn't notice the special attention you paid to Sidon, either,"_ Zelda added. _"But I very much appreciate that you did."_

"Zel, I'm about to throw myself out the nearest window here," Link said with a sigh. "Can you get to the point, please?"

_"Eugh, fine. Look, I sent over a quick collection of the best shots to Shinobi Designs, and I just heard back from their lead designer. He loved the shots you got, and he wants to schedule a private shoot."_

"That's great," Link said, a bad feeling creeping up his back. "That's a wonderful opportunity for you. If their brand takes off—"

_"They want you."_

He paused. "Eh?"

She sighed again. _"They want you,"_ she repeated. _"Look, you and I have very different photography styles, right? The pics you took have a...certain energy to them. The angles, the focus, the compositions. Shinobi loved_ _ **your**_ _photos and believe me they've seen a lot of them over the past few days. They contacted me and asked for a private shoot, on the condition that the person who took the catwalk photos also takes the new ones. I can't fake your style, Link. I need you."_

"Zel..."

_"Please?"_

Link groaned. Just his fucking luck.

"I'm not a fashion guy, Zel," he tried. "I have no idea how to direct, or—"

_"I'll help you with that!"_ she said brightly. _"We'll go over it at my studio a few days beforehand, so you can get used to it. I'll be doing most of_ _ **that**_ _work, anyway. You just focus on getting those energetic photos."_

"I don't know..."

_"Double your usual fee. I'll throw in more cupcakes. And I'll give you full control of the TV the next time we're at Dad's."_

...now that was unexpected. Zelda never _ever_ let anyone have free reign of the TV. Not even their father was allowed to decide, even at _his_ place. For Zelda to give up that control...it was unprecedented.

_"Please?"_ she said. _"Do this for me, and it'll be the last time I ask you for a favour."_

"Can I have that in writing and notarised?" he asked jokingly.

_"Sure!"_ she said brightly.

Fuck.

He couldn't say no now. He'd feel awful if he did.

"Eugh, fine. Set it up," he said. "But I want at least a week to prepare."

_"You got it! I'll get back to Shinobi and let them know we can arrange it. I'll send you the details once we've worked something out."_

"Sure."

_"Oh, and Link?"_

"Yeah?"

_"Thanks again. I owe you big time."_

"Damn right you do," he said. "Next time we're at Dad's, I'm making you watch every corny romcom I can find."

_"Eugh...well, a promise is a promise,"_ Zelda said after making a retching sound. _"I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Sending you the details. Bye, little brother!"_

"Bye, Zel."

He put his phone back on his desk and felt a little good about making his sister so happy for a moment.

For a moment.

And then he remembered that he'd very likely have to photograph that Sheikah model again.

The one who'd caught him drooling.

Link wondered if it was too late to head out on another hike. A few weeks in the mountains sounded good right about now.

His phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Zelda.

**For the love of all that is good and holy, PLEASE don't wear the wolf shirt!**

He stared at the message for a moment.

On second thought, a hike wouldn't be enough. Best to leave civilisation permanently.

No one would mock his awesome shirt then.

* * *

"No."

Across the desk, Kafei's face fell in an exaggerated manner, like he hadn't in a million years expected that answer. There was even a loud, outraged gasp.

"Why not?!" he exclaimed.

Sheik glared at him. "Are you kidding me?" he asked. "I did it for you _one_ time as a favour. We agreed on that. One time! Besides, Kiro's healthy again now, so you don't need me anymore, and thank Din for that."

Sheik had been in the middle of checking his schedule to see if he could fit in another intermediate class every week, as he'd received more sign-up requests than his current class sizes could accommodate. The chances looked middling, but he'd been about to start setting up a prototype schedule anyway to at least try when the purple-haired idiot had barged into his office.

Paya had tried to say something, but Kafei had gone directly into his schpiel, leaving her hovering by the door and giving Sheik an apologetic look, which he responded to with a smile. His poor cousin was as much a victim in this as Sheik.

"Aw, but Sheik!" Kafei said, throwing his arms out and nearly knocking Sheik's computer monitor off his desk. "You liked it, didn't you? You sure looked like you were enjoying yourself, at least! That twirl!"

"I was doing you a favour," Sheik said. "I may not have liked it very much, but I wasn't about to do a subpar job of it."

Kafei sighed. "Okay, fine. So, you didn't enjoy it. But at least you got that Zora model's number, right?"

"It was probably fake."

His cousin paused, staring at Sheik for a long moment. "You haven't tried calling? Texting?"

"Why would I call or text an obviously fake number?" Sheik asked.

Sidon had been friendly, sure, and they'd had a bit of fun during the party, but he'd had no reason to give Sheik his actual number. Sidon was pretty well-known model (Sheik had checked, and Sidon was featured in a lot of articles on various sites), and probably surrounded by people far more suitable for friendships and...well, no point in even thinking about it, really.

Sheik was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of Kafei slamming—outright _smashing_ —his forehead into Sheik's desk, groaning.

"Paya," he said, voice muffled by the cheap wood, "our baby cousin will be alone forever."

Sheik rolled his eyes. "Don't be so dramatic."

"Agreed," Paya said from her position by the door. "Sheik takes things at his own pace, Kaf. Leave him alone." She paused, looking at Sheik. "You should try texting him, though."

"Not you too!"

"Well!" Kafei said brightly. "If you don't believe the number is real, then we'll just have to make sure your paths cross again! Which means you gotta keep modelling for me!"

"No," Sheik said, holding his hand out flat, as if warding Kafei off. "I am not doing it. Forget it. Nope! Njet! Iie!"

"Oh, I have an idea!" Kafei said, completely ignoring him. "How about this: You do this gig for me, and I'll help you with your classes. Maybe I'll even hold a few of my own! Paya'll help too!"

"I'm sorry?" Paya asked. "When did I agree to this?"

"Just now, honey," Kafei replied, grinning at her. "You've always wanted to be a teacher, after all."

"No, I haven't."

"So it's decided!" Kafei said, thrusting his hand out, trying to snatch Sheik's, but he managed to pull it out of the way just in time.

"Kafei!" Sheik shouted, not sure how else to get through to his idiot cousin. "I. Am. Not. Doing. It! I have too much shit to do around here, too much planning! I can't just take a random couple of days off at your whim! Besides, Kiro is healthy again, use him!"

"But you look so much _better_ than Kiro in the outfit—"

"Doesn't fucking matter! He's the model, not me!"

"But—"

"Kafei," Paya interrupted abruptly. "He doesn't want to do it. Accept it and move on."

Kafei looked stricken and extremely disappointed, but eventually he nodded slowly.

"All right," he said. "Fine. You're right. You don't want to do it, you don't want to do it." He stood up and brushed some imaginary dust off his shoulders. "Sorry to bother you, cuz."

"It's fine," Sheik said. "Kiro will do a good job, I'm sure."

"Yes, yes, he will," Kafei agreed. "It's just...ah, doesn't matter. I'll get out of your hair." He went for the door, which Paya opened for him. "Oh, one more thing," he said, pausing halfway through it. "Impa wanted me to tell you that she liked the pictures."

"It's not fine," Sheik said. "It will never be fine. Get out of my office and never come back."

"As you wish," Kafei said with a cackle. "Till next time, cousin dear!"

"Sorry about that," Paya said again. "You know how he gets when he's disappointed."

"Acts like a toddler, I know," Sheik said, nodding. "I'm just glad I'm not the one who has to protect him when he's throwing a tantrum."

"I'll pound him into mush in the sparring ring, no worries," she said. "Have a good night, Sheik."

"You too."

Sheik waited until he heard the front door of his dojo opening and closing before breathing out a sigh of relief. Thank fuck he'd managed to talk Kafei down. He could be so damned persistent, and he usually found some angle to work in order to get Sheik to say yes, but Sheik had held fast this time. There was no emergency—Kiro had sent a text thanking Sheik for covering for him while he'd been sick, but that he'd recovered now and was ready for work again.

There was no good reason for Sheik to do it, and that had helped him stay firm on his decision.

One humiliation was enough.

Or so he thought, until a few days later when he received a text from the number that supposedly belonged to Sidon.

**Hi Sheik!  
** **It's Sidon!  
** **Not sure if you managed to save my number or not (we were pretty smashed when I gave it to you), but your cousin was kind enough to give me yours!  
** **He told me you're getting a private shoot! That's a big step in any model's career, especially after just one show!  
** **You've no idea how proud I am of you!  
** **I just wanted to wish you the best of luck, and...can I have some copies of the shots, please? From one model to another, you know?  
** **Text me back! I'm at school right now, studying for a big exam in a couple of days so my replies may be sporadic!  
** **Big hug,**  
Sidon

Sheik read the text over and over a few times, trying to make sense of it.

First of all, how did Kafei know how to get in touch with Sidon? Second, why was Kafei talking to Sidon about Sheik? And thirdly, when the fuck had Sheik agreed to the private shoot.

It struck him a few seconds later.

That...that bastard!

He brought up his contacts and called the number listed under "Purple Bane of My Existence."

It only took a few rings before the smug snake picked up.

_"Sheik, I was expecting your call."_

"I've no fucking doubt," Sheik said, pacing around his apartment living room. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

_"Nothing's wrong with me, cousin. I'm just a man who knows what he wants and will do whatever it takes to get it. What a coincidence, that I happened to have Mipha's number, and she was willing to give me her little brother's in exchange for some...well, that's not important. And you wouldn't_ _**believe** _ _how excited young Sidon was when I mentioned the private shoot. I thought he was going to start jumping up and down right then and there. I may have failed to mention that you initially turned it down, but I can hardly be blamed for him jumping to conclusions, can I? Anyway, I gave him your number, just in case the one you have was fake. No need to thank me."_

"I won't," Sheik said through gritted teeth. "I hate you so fucking much."

_"I love you too, Sheik. So, I'll mail you the details as soon as we've ironed them out with Trifocus. If you want, I can send you the diet plan as well."_

"I never agreed—"

_"You don't want to disappoint Sidon, do you?"_

"One of these days, I'm going to kill you."

_"You're welcome to try, but I don't think you'll succeed."_

Defeated, because Sheik could not bear the idea of disappointing Sidon for any damned reason (and ignoring the thrill in his chest at knowing how excited he'd been for Sheik), he fought down the urge to hurl his cell phone into the wall, instead taking a deep breath and saying:

"I have conditions," he said.

_"Double the fee, all costs covered, and help from me and Paya when you need it at the dojo."_

"...had that ready to go, did you?"

_"I can read you like an open book, cousin."_

"I want dinner at a fancy place, too. The most expensive place in town."

Kafei paused. _"Why?"_ he asked.

"Consider it a business dinner," Sheik said, grinning. "To cement the deal."

_"You drive a hard bargain, Sheik...but sure. You got it. Pick a place, and I'll see about booking us a table. You wanna bring someone, or...?"_

"Don't get ahead of yourself," Sheik growled. "Just get it done."

_"You got it. I'll mail you the details, as I said. And thanks, Sheik. I really do appreciate this."_

"Yeah, yeah," Sheik said, hanging up without saying goodbye. Kafei wasn't worth it.

He paced around his apartment, stewing in his own useless anger for a while before deciding to head down to the dojo. There was a punching bag in his office that he wanted nothing more than to obliterate. Maybe he'd print out a picture of Kafei and tape it to the bag.

Or just actually punch him in the face the next time they met.

That'd be good, too.


	6. Chapter 6

Link parked Epona in the underground garage of Zelda's office building and climbed the stairs with a due sense of trepidation. He'd spent the last few days going over procedures and plans with Zelda, coming to an agreement on how to deliver the best shoot they possibly could.

It had been hell. Link knew nothing about working with artificial lighting, and Zelda had been forced to give him a crash course on the subject, even though she too would be present for the shoot. It was mostly to get Link comfortable with it and give him the ability to improvise.

They'd also had to clear some space in Zelda's office and set up a proper stage for the shoot to take place on, as this shoot would be bigger than the ones Zelda usually held at her space. Apparently, there were going to be at least three models present, and some would be group shots. Zelda had promised to help him a lot with those, and to take secondary shots to cover whatever he might miss.

Frankly, the photographing itself wasn't what Link was nervous about. It was the directing. Zelda had shown him some recordings of shoots she'd held on her own, and she'd sounded so...demanding. Confident. Intimidating. And had no trouble asking a pretty model to pretend to have orgasms in order to get a shot of, in her words, a _rapturous_ expression as the model drank from a small yogurt bottle.

"This isn't your usual job, is it?" Link had asked.

Zelda had looked uncomfortable. "Some months are slow, okay? And this office space ain't cheap! I have to take whatever jobs I can!"

Once again, Link felt so lucky that his office was the great outdoors.

He let himself into Zelda's office and found it completely spotless, a far cry from the mess he'd seen a week and a half before. The woman herself was sitting in a couch pushed against one of the walls, computer in her lap, glasses about to slip off her nose.

"Hey, little brother," she said without looking up. "Just finishing up an email. You can set your kit up."

Link did so. He'd brought three cameras and more memory cards than he knew what to do with. Everything else he could borrow from Zelda, including tripods and the like.

Two thirds of Zelda's office had been cleared for the shoot, a giant white screen covering most of the wall. A large part of the floor wasn't covered in carpet, but sheer, white tiles. Several lights and reflectors were also prepared, but not set up yet. They'd do this along the way, continually adjusting for optimal results.

There was the tell-tale whoosh of an email being sent, and Zelda stood up from the couch.

"Nervous?" she asked, heading towards her desk and grabbing a mug, giving it a cursory look and sniff before shrugging and placing it in her fancy coffee maker. "Want one?" she asked, gesturing to the machine.

Link gave it a sceptical look. "Got any _clean_ mugs?" he asked.

"Plenty," she said. "But I'm saving most of them for the Shinobi people. No idea how large their crew will be in addition to the models." She pressed a few buttons, and the machine began to make an unholy racket as it ground coffee beans. "And you didn't answer my question!" she pointed out over the noise.

"Of course I'm nervous!" he said, annoyed. "I still don't see why you just can't imitate me! It's literally just pointing and shooting without giving too much thought to anything!"

"That's what you think," Zelda said. The machine stopped screeching and began to dispense the brown nectar of the gods. "But while you may not _consciously_ think about anything when you're shooting, there's a ton of unconscious thoughts passing through your head as you're doing it." She pulled her mug out from beneath the spigot and replaced it with another mug. This one was clean. "And that's why I can't imitate you, because _my_ stream of thoughts is completely different."

She came to his side of the room, handing him the second mug. He took a sip, happy to find that at least the coffee was as good as ever. She hadn't spared any expense on the machine, luckily. He unzipped his plain black hoodie, feeling a little warm.

"There's no need to be nervous," Zelda said. "I'll be here the whole time and help you. You should be excited, if anything! Maybe they'll bring that hot Sheikah boy over and...and..."

She trailed off, her gaze having landed on his opened sweatshirt...and the design of his t-shirt that had been revealed.

"Link..." she said slowly.

He swallowed his mouthful of coffee. "Yes, Zelda?" he said, trying not to grin.

"Do you _want_ me to have a heart attack and die? Is that the end you want for your beloved twin sister?"

He took another sip. "I don't understand what you're talking about."

"The shirt, Link. What did I tell you about it?"

Link looked down, opening his hoodie a little more to reveal the print of his t-shirt. "This isn't the three wolves howling at the moon one," he said innocently. "That's the one you didn't want me to wear."

Link swore he could hear Zelda's teeth grinding against each other.

"That is true," she conceded icily. "But I thought you'd have enough common sense to realise that meant _any_ shirt depicting animals and the moon."

Link gave her an affronted look. "You _gave_ me this shirt!"

"As a joke!"

Indeed, and it had backfired on her horribly. She'd probably thought she was very clever, getting Link a shirt depicting three brilliantly white horses galloping through a stream, the moon shining above them in the night sky, thinking even _he_ was too self-conscious to wear such an atrocious article of clothing.

She'd been wrong.

He loved it so damned much. Not just for the motive, but because the fabric was so soft and comfortable.

Plus, he knew how much she hated it, and used that for all it was worth, wearing it to every sort of social gathering they were both present at to annoy her. The best part of it all was that she couldn't be angry at him for it, because she's the one who gave it to him.

"Joke's on you," he said, grinning obnoxiously.

She sighed, removing her glasses and rubbing her eyes tiredly. "Every damn time..." she muttered. "All right, well. You'll just have to change."

"No time," he said, pointing at his watch. "Shinobi will be here in less than twenty minutes. It'll take too long for me to go home, change, and get back. And we can't be late, can we? That's unprofessional."

Hah, got her!

Zelda narrowed her eyes for a moment. "You're right," she said. "It'll take too long for you to go _home_ and change..." She looked him up and down. "Say, we're not too different in size, are we?"

A shudder ran up Link's spine. No...surely not?

"Zel..." he began.

"Technically, right now, you're an employee of mine," Zelda said. "And that means you're representing me in any professional context. That means I cannot have you wearing something as unfashionable as _that_ abomination to this shoot." She glared at the offending tee. "Unfortunately, it's too late for you to go home and change." She walked back over to her desk, placing her coffee mug on it, and started fishing around behind it. "Luckily," she said, voice muffled slightly by the furniture, "I have a compromise!"

Oh no.

Compromises never meant anything good when Zelda was involved, because they were always skewed in her favour.

"I always keep a spare set of clothes at my office!" she said, pulling out a dusty duffel bag, coughing a little.

"What, in case you have another Kahlua incident?" he asked.

"Shh!" she hissed, unzipping the bag and, after a moment of rummaging around inside, pulled out a black bundle of fabric, tossing it to him. "It's a little creased, but beggars can't be choosers. Go on, put it on!"

Link caught the bundle, looking at it. "I don't know..."

"Link, it's a black T-shirt, as basic as they come," Zelda said, shaking her head. "I mean, we can trade, if you like," she suggested, looking down at her simple but professional-looking outfit consisting of well-fitting jeans, a white camisole and a peach blazer. "But I don't think this is really your style, you know?"

Link stared at her. "Well, you know—"

"Link!"

"Okay, okay, fine, geez!"

He removed his hoodie and went to pull the horse T-shirt off, but another hiss from his sister stopped him.

"Not in here! Go change in the bathroom! What if Shinobi shows up and you're half-naked in the office?"

"I could literally have changed in the time it took you to say that," Link muttered, putting his mug down and heading for the small bathroom attached to her office. "I'll be right back."

* * *

"My models' security trumps all!"

Kafei had crowed this as Sheik had been, quite rudely, dragged inside the van. From an outsider's perspective, it had probably looked like a kidnapping. Sheik had been waiting outside his building, as per Kafei's instructions, at which point a van had suddenly pulled up next to him, the door opened, and several hands had reached out to grab him.

He'd been forced into a seat and had his belt buckled before he really realised what was going on, and then the van had been moving again.

Around him was a smaller number of Kafei's minions, along with Kiro and another Sheikah model, Rena.

At least he wasn't working this shoot _alone_.

Unless they were just here to watch and laugh at him.

"Morning, Sheik," Kiro said, smiling at him. "How are you?"

"I feel like Aunt Impa is about to receive a ransom note for me," Sheik said, shifting his seat, looking around the van. Kafei and Paya were in the front seats, with Paya driving.

Thank Din.

Kafei was the worst driver in the world. How he'd earned a license at all was a mystery. Sheik suspected it involved bribery.

His minions were all chattering amongst themselves, probably already trying to figure out the best way to embarrass Sheik.

"Here, cousin," Kafei said from the front, reaching back to hand Sheik a paper cup of piping hot coffee. "Drink. Today's a cold one."

"If you think this makes everything okay—"

"Just drink the coffee, Sheik. It's going to be a long day and we're all going to need as much caffeine as we can get."

"Especially him," Rena whispered to Sheik conspiratorially. "He got a call from Ordon. They're going with Elenwe instead of him for their fall collection. He's pissed."

It wasn't quiet enough. Kafei growled. "What the fuck would that hack know about fall fashion?! She's a Gerudo! They live in a land of perpetual summer! Oh, what are they all going to wear? Fucking sirwals and crop tops when the autumn rains hit?! Ridiculous!"

"I'm not sure you can call a desert a _land of perpetual_ _summer_ ," Kiro pointed out. "I mean, it's not exactly comfortable..."

"Who cares?!" Kafei exclaimed. "It's hotter than hell and makes me wish for another ice age!"

"Who's Elenwe?" Sheik asked, completely out of the loop.

"Big Gerudo fashion designer," Rena said. "She and Kafei studied at the same school, basically got really competitive, and now they're, like, rivals or something."

"I don't think that's the right word," Kiro said. "Rivals don't look like they're about to hate fuck-each other in the nearest broom closet whenever they're in the same room."

Sheik rolled his eyes. Of course she was a Gerudo. Kafei never did anything the easy way, not even his...crushes.

Eugh, even the thought of Kafei being intimate made him want to throw up.

"I mean, I can't blame him," Kiro continued. "She's like...a fucking goddess."

"True," Rena agreed. "Those abs..."

"Will you please shut about my cousin and his romantic interests?" Sheik groaned. "You're going to give me nightmares for life."

"I don't think it's romantic..."

Sheik screamed.

"Don't make me pull over," Paya warned from behind the wheel. "I _will_ pull your ears!"

The car fell completely silent.

Someone snickered.

Paya pulled over.

* * *

Link stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. This was a disaster. Sure, he and his sister were somewhat the same size when it came to height, but width was another matter entirely. Typically, Link preferred his shirts to fit loosely. He felt more comfortable that way.

Zelda's T-shirt did no such thing. It was soft, certainly, but it clung to his upper body like a second layer of skin, showing off every bit of him.

He did not like this.

He tried to tug at the fabric in the hopes of loosening it up a little, but it was stubborn and kept bouncing back to its original shape and fit.

This was a disaster. He couldn't work like this. He wasn't keen on prancing about like this with everything on display, and he was quite sure the models or the other Shinobi people would appreciate it either. He'd fucked up once with that one model of theirs already.

Hylia above, he hoped that particular model wasn't going to be part of the shoot.

As if on cue, Zelda knocked on the bathroom door impatiently. "Link, what the hell is taking you so long?" she asked. "Shinobi's here, they're parking their van downstairs as we speak! Get out here!"

Link sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, satisfied to see that his hair, at least, was cooperating for once. Well, this was it. The worst day of his life had arrived. He unlocked the door and stepped back into the office.

Zelda was looking at him with a slight grin. "Very nice," she said. "You should wear tighter clothing more often, Link."

"Very funny," he growled, throwing on his hoodie and zipping it up. "I hope this doesn't offend your delicate fashion sensibilities?"

"Plain black works for me," she said with a shrug. "I'm sure that hoodie will get hot, though."

"I'll live."

"We'll see."

The intercom buzzed, and Zelda went to answer it.

"Yes? Ah, excellent. I'll be right down." She closed the line and grinned at Link. "They're here. Get yourself ready, little brother. It's fashion time!"

* * *

Sheik was the first person through the door, and he wasn't sure what he'd expected. The building was on one of the more upscale streets in the downtown area, but the studio he'd just stepped into looked anything but lavish.

It was a small office-like room, with exposed pipes and vent canals in the ceiling, a desk with a computer set in one corner, a pair of sofas jammed against the side walls, and the rest of the space was completely dominated by the stage area with a white screen and a ton of lamps and reflectors. In the opposite corner of the desk was another door, which appeared to lead to a bathroom.

Zelda, the Hylian girl who'd let them inside the building and was, apparently, the CEO of the company, gestured to the small office space.

"Welcome to Trifocus!" she said, like she was introducing a palace instead of a shitty little office. "Please, make yourselves comfortable. I've got plenty of coffee and water and can make tea for those who prefer that."

There was no food.

Strike one.

Weren't shoots like these supposed to have some sort of caterer on hand to provide sustenance to the workers?

"No wonder Ordon with Elenwe," he muttered to Kiro. "I bet she's willing to pay for some decent service."

Kiro snorted. "Good one."

"Miss Hyrule," Kafei said, a very pleased look on his face, "thank you so much for agreeing to this shoot on such short notice. I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"Not at all, mister..." she trailed off, probably realising Kafei had never told her his last name. He never did that with anyone. Because he was apparently convinced he was so big in the fashion world already that his first name would always suffice.

"Kafei is fine," Kafei said.

"Then you can call me Zelda."

There was another person in the room, but their back was turned to the Shinobi crew, fiddling with a camera on a tripod. They wore a baggy black hoodie with the hood up, obscuring them from view.

"I know my space isn't very big," Zelda said, looking a bit embarrassed, "but I hope it'll suffice?"

"We'll make do, Zelda," Kafei said smoothly. "We've worked with far less space than this before. If anything, this is a luxury!"

"That's good to hear," Zelda said, smiling and looking at the rest of the crew. "I'm sorry, but I didn't get your names..."

"Oh, sorry, my bad," Kafei said, introducing the crew one by one, ending on Sheik. "And this is my cousin! Sheik, of clan Ishida."

"Pleasure to meet you," Zelda said, shaking his hand, looking closely at his face. "You were the star attraction, weren't you? At the show, I mean."

Oh gods, she'd seen the photos!

"Y-Yeah," he said, feeling his cheeks heating up already.

"You were so good-looking on that stage," Zelda said excitedly.

"Th-Thank you..."

There was a loud click and a flash from the studio area, and a small, muttered curse.

Zelda clicked her tongue. "Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce my photographer!" She turned to the hoodie-clad person. "Link! Come here and say hello to the people we'll be working with!"

The photographer—Link, was it?—turned around and lowered his hood.

Revealing a _very_ familiar face. Sheik's breath hitched. Just his fucking luck that the _one_ photographer whose photos Kafei had liked turned out to be this fucking pervert. He narrowed his eyes and pointed an accusing finger at the Hylian.

"You!" he exclaimed.

Around him, Kafei, his cohorts, and Zelda went quiet, looking confused.

The photographer, however, knew exactly what it meant, if his panicked expression was anything to judge by.

"I...er..."

"You drooled!"

The silence lay thick over the room as the occupants tried to digest what Sheik had just shouted in such a venomous tone one would think he'd just accused Link of genocide. Even Link looked confused at having such anger thrown at him for an act—heinous though it may be—only truly affected his own clothes.

"I think I'm gonna need some context here, cuz," Kafei said quietly.

"Him!" Sheik shouted, his internal volume knob broken off at 11, jabbing his finger in Link's direction. "He's the one who drooled at the show! The perv!"

That seemed to knock Link out of his confusion, and he glared back. "I'm not a perv!" he shouted back.

"Then why the fuck were you drooling at the sight of my panties?!"

"Why the fuck were you twirling and showing them off?!"

"I'm a model! It's my job to show off the clothes the designer makes!"

Sheik wasn't sure why he'd just claimed to be a model when nothing could be further from the truth, but he was too far gone in his rage at the sight of the pervert photographer to take logic and truth into consideration.

"Oh, and that includes flashing the whole room, does it?!"

"Yes, it does when _he_ tells me to!"

He couldn't resist dragging Kafei into this either, giving his cousin a venomous glare. This was all his fault.

Kafei, still confused but suddenly looking smug, said, "I told him to do the first twirl, but not the second one. That one was all for you, apparently."

Sheik rounded on his cousin, shock running through him like an icy spear. Kafei _dared_ to look innocent.

"You throw me under the bus, I'm taking you with me, cousin," he said.

"O-kay," Zelda said slowly, raising her hands in what was apparently supposed to be a placating and peaceful gesture. It looked like she was trying to calm a wounded animal. "Apparently there's something I've missed here. Excuse me for a moment while I confer with my photographer."

* * *

Link didn't resist as Zelda dragged him into a corner.

"Care to explain what that was all about?" she asked pleasantly, but with an undertone of steel. The one that told Link he was in big trouble. "What was that about drooling?"

"It's no big deal," Link said sourly, glaring across the room at the Sheikah model—Sheik Ishida, apparently—who was currently surrounded by the designer and his little army of minions, presumably having this exact same conversation.

"It clearly is to Ishida," Zelda said. "Now, out with it."

Link groaned. Of all the stupid, embarrassing, humiliating things he had to admit to...

"I may have...drooled a bit when he was strutting about on the catwalk last week," he said, refusing to meet his sister's eyes. "He _may_ have noticed."

"So I gathered," Zelda said drily.

"But he didn't seem to mind it then!" Link hurriedly added. "He actually looked right at me, grinned like a smug little shit, and did another twirl! On purpose! Why the fuck would he do that and then accuse me of being some sort of creepy pervert?! He started it!"

"The fuck I did!" Ishida shouted.

"Why don't you do another twirl?!"

"Why don't you start drooling again?!"

They were simultaneously silenced again by their respective relatives. Zelda was more than used to her twin's seldom seen but incandescent when roused temper, easily shutting him down with The Look.

"Take a deep breath, little brother," she said. "Look, I get that Ishida's display was...exciting. Hell, those pics were damned tasty, I'll admit, but openly drooling at him? Link, it wasn't a strip club. I expected you to have more decorum than that."

"But—"

"Now, I get that his outfit was meant to tantalise and excite, but there's a time and a place, you know? And how else was he supposed to react up there? By shouting and calling you a pervert right there on the catwalk? That'd be a scandal and could hurt Shinobi for years. Sure, the second twirl was unnecessary, but maybe that was Ishida's way of telling you to get a grip."

Link glared at her. "You _really_ think that?" he asked, doubtful.

She maintained a completely straight and unreadable face. "Now, it probably wasn't the _best_ way to do it, but when you're up on a stage like that, your thoughts may not be the most coherent. He was probably half-starved and slightly delirious."

That...made a little sense. A _little_. Link didn't know much about the fashion world, but he _did_ know what sort of hell models went through to achieve their body shapes and the like. And while Ishida was certainly on the muscular side for a model, he was still quite lithe and small. It was probably hell, maintaining that sort of shape, and then being forced to contend with the likes of Link...who wasn't a pervert, but definitely should've known better than to openly drool.

Eugh.

This was the last fucking time he did Zelda any favours.

"Fine," he harrumphed. "You're right. I guess."

"Damn right I am," Zelda said brightly, smiling at him. "Now come on. Let's just apologise to Ishida, and we can back to work, eh?"

She didn't give him an option, dragging Link towards the Sheikah huddle.

* * *

"Excuse me, my brother has something to say!"

Sheik paused. They were brother and sister? There was definitely a resemblance, now that he looked at them standing side by side.

So, they were probably both pervs, then. Figures. Typical Kafei, choosing the one photography studio staffed by voyeurs.

"Be nice," Kafei whispered as the huddle—which had formed in order to stop Sheik from marching over to Link and turning him into a pretzel—broke up, facing the Trifocus staff.

Zelda shoved Link forward none-too-gently, whispering something to him in the same way Kafei had to Sheik.

Their eyes met, and Sheik had to force himself not to imitate Link's expression from the photo pit. Dumb and vacant. A pity, too. Because Link wasn't bad looking. In that boy-next-door kind of way. Eugh. Why had he done that second fucking twirl? He'd gotten so caught up in the moment the thought had bypassed every single one of his security checks before it reached his nerve centre.

He prepared himself to defend his actions, in case this idiot decided to accuse him of playing coy or something, but Link simply bowed his head a little.

"I'm sorry," he said. "What I did was rude and creepy, and unbecoming of my position as a photographer. Please forgive me."

Huh.

Surprisingly straightforward...and an actual apology, unlike so many others Sheik had heard.

Link straightened up, their eyes meeting again. There was still anger in his eyes, but now there was determination, too. The sort that conveyed a very specific sentiment. The sort that simply said:

_I hate your guts, but let's get this over with so we'll never have to see each other again._

A sentiment Sheik could agree with wholeheartedly.

"Apology accepted," he said after a moment, trying to convey that same sentiment.

An Agreement appeared to have been made, and the room relaxed.

"All right, then!" Zelda said, clapping her hands again cheerfully. "Bump in the road cleared! Let's take some photos, shall we?!"

"Yeah!" Kafei said, pumping his fist excitedly. "I can't wait to see what magic we'll cook up in here!" He was about to say something else equally stupid, but his phone went off. Some annoyingly generic rock music announced an incoming call, and he quickly took it, giving everyone a faux-apologetic look. "Paya, where are you? Oh, great. Yeah, just come on up!" He put the phone away. "Sorry about that, my security team just finished locking up our car and is bringing up the last box of supplies!"

Sheik nodded to himself. Of course. Paya would keep him safe from the perv in case he tried to take some...creative shots. Good old Paya-nee, the scariest girl in the neighbourhood where they'd grown up, who'd take on kids twice her size and walk away unscathed while they cried all the way home.

She'd protect him.

* * *

Link took a deep breath, fighting down the urge to keep arguing with Ishida, focusing instead on setting up the last of his cameras, aware of the model's piercing eyes in the back of his head.

"He's still glaring at me, isn't he?" Link asked quietly as Zelda came up to him to help with the setup.

"Yup," Zelda confirmed.

"This is going to be a disaster," he sighed.

"We can still salvage this," Zelda assured him. "We just have to maintain a completely professional mood from now on, right?"

"I'll try," Link said. "But if he picks a fight again..."

"I'll be there to shut it down, if so," she promised.

There was a knock on the door, and Link and Zelda both turned around just in time to see one of the minions opening the door for Kafei's security team...which turned out to be just one person.

And Link had no doubt that the Sheikah woman, who was carrying what seemed to be an incredibly heavy box with no trouble whatsoever, clad in a black suit and with a sharp look in her ruby eyes, was an entire team on her own. The suit fit her perfectly, showing off what was undoubtedly a powerful frame, only matched by the severity in her face. Her silver hair was put up in a simple bun, with crisscrossing sticks holding it in place.

Simply put, this was not a woman to mess with.

"I wouldn't want to get in a fight with _her_ ," Link said, watching as she handed the box to a pair of minions, who definitely struggled with the weight between the two of them. "She looks like she could break your spine over her knee like it's nothing." Zelda didn't answer. "Eh, Zel?" he asked, looking at her.

His sister's gaze was fastened on the Sheikah woman, her expression vacant. Her cheeks were dusted with pink, and a small, translucent drop of saliva was making its way down her chin.

Oh no.

"Zel?" he tried again, poking her shoulder.

"...thighs...skull..." she said.

He poked her again, saying "What?"

"Think she could...crush my skull with her thighs?" Zelda said, sighing dreamily.

Link looked at the nearest window. He could make it. With enough speed, he'd crash right through the double safety glass, fall five stories, and smash his head open on the pavement.

It'd be a damn sight better—and kinder—fate than what he was about to face.


	7. Chapter 7

"All right, my faithful minions," Kafei said, rubbing his hands together and giving Sheik, Kiro, and Rena a gleeful and, frankly, predatory look. All that was missing was him licking his lips like he was about to bite into something delicious.

Why did Sheik have to be saddled with such a creep for a cousin? Or, rather, when had Kafei gone from slightly deranged to downright insane? Must have been a gradual thing, because he couldn't rightly recall a moment where a switch was flipped in his cousin's head.

Must've been all this work in fashion. As an industry, it chewed up and spat out individuals at a frightening rate, and Kafei was just another victim forced to adapt or get churned up in the grinder with the rest of the poor souls who couldn't hack it.

Or so Sheik imagined as he, Kiro, and Rena were dragged towards one of the couches in the studio and forced to sit down while the minions unpacked the many, _many_ boxes they'd brought up from the van. Clothes of all sorts were unfolded, and a million little discussions and arguments took place between the minions and Kafei as they decided on what the models were to wear.

"We start off slow and easy," Kafei announced, selecting three outfits from the arsenal. "Kiro, you're the lead in the first series. Sheik, Rena, you'll be background."

"Oh, thank fuck," Sheik exclaimed with relief.

"Happy, Sheik?" Kafei asked, giving him a curious look.

"Obviously?" Sheik said. "Thought you'd be forcing me into that fucking bondage outfit and making me parade around again."

Kafei chuckled. "Oh, I'm definitely doing that, but not right away. We've got to build up to it. Besides, there's plenty of other outfits for you to wear in the meantime. Kiro, what do you think? The corset? Think it'd fit him?"

Sheik gave Kiro a pleading look, hoping to convey just how little he thought of that idea. A fucking corset? Really? As if pleather schoolgirl outfit wasn't bad enough?!

Kiro looked doubtful for a moment, but Kafei cleared his throat meaningfully after a few seconds of absolute silence.

"I suppose _you_ can wear it instead," Kafei said.

"Sheik can wear it!" Kiro exclaimed. "It'll look really good on him, too! His waist is practically made for it!"

"You fucking traitor!" Sheik shrieked, trying to launch himself off the couch to throttle the backstabbing bastard, but Kafei was there to keep him down with a firm grip on his shoulder. "I am not wearing a corset!" he told his cousin in no uncertain terms.

"Yeah, you are," Kafei said cheerfully. "Don't worry, we won't lace it too tight." He gave Sheik another considering look. "Hm...maybe the thigh highs? And the skirt? We want the _zettai ryōiki_ factor...but perhaps it's better to save it for the main attraction?"

"I think we should save it," Rena chimed in completely unnecessarily, in Sheik's opinion, looking very into the idea. "You said you wanted to build up to that, so..."

"You're right," Kafei agreed, nodding and giving his minions a hand signal. "Ninja corset assassin it is! Get to work, people!"

The minions gave an enthusiastic shout, and Sheik was once more forced to endure pure hell.

* * *

Link and Zelda were running through the light settings again, trying their best to ignore the shrieking and shouting going on behind them.

"He's a loud one, isn't he?" Zelda asked, clicking through the lamp's pre-sets. "You'd think they were torturing him."

"Did you _see_ the outfit he wore on the catwalk?" Link asked, keeping his gaze firmly on the lights' control panel, refusing to even _admit_ that he wanted to look. "Getting into it probably _is_ torture."

He wanted to look.

So, so badly.

Unpleasant as he was, Ishida was one of the most beautiful people Link had ever seen, and while his personality was like an extra-sour lemon, he sure wasn't difficult to look at. Something about that combination of red eyes, silvery-golden hair, and dark skin, and a face that wouldn't have been out of place on old marble statues just made Link's heart beat a little faster every time he saw them.

And then Ishida would open his mouth and pure hell would emerge from it in the form of a sonic weapon that was, Link suspected, capable of breaking glass if amplified just a little. He could only hope Zelda's office windows were sturdy, otherwise they might have a problem later if yet another thing upset the model.

"Actually, Kaf, I've got an idea," the female model, Rena, said. "How about this, this, and this, combined with this?"

"You want to cover him up?" the designer asked, sounding sceptical. Why he was so keen on keeping his cousin dressed skimpily, Link didn't want to know, but he'd be lying if he said he minded the results. "Why?"

Yeah, why?

"Not right away. I was thinking maybe..." Rena's voice dropped to a quiet whisper, and Link found himself turning his head slightly in a weak attempt to eavesdrop. He could swear his ear was twitching, trying to find the best angle to bounce the noise into his eardrum.

"What the hell are you two whispering about?!" Ishida snarled.

"So loud," Zelda repeated. She was having some trouble of her own, apparently, trying not to look too interested in Shinobi's lone security guard.

The Sheikah, Paya, had positioned herself near Zelda's desk, keeping a close eye on everything, her eyes roaming the room at irregular intervals, but always watching, analysing. She was physically imposing, but she also kept out of the way, clearly experienced in this job.

Link wondered if she'd ever had to deal with being the centre of attention, unlike her employers and charges. If not, she was about to have a crash course since he very much doubted his sister, the very definition of thirst when someone piqued her interest, inevitably lost the battle of wills between her professionalism and...well, her unprofessionalism.

Link gave Zelda about fifteen minutes before she broke.

"Do I look like a stripper to you?!" Ishida shrieked once whatever plan Rena had come up with was explained to him.

Link fought down the urge to voice his opinion, which was mostly based on the catwalk outfit. What else could that outfit _possibly_ be used for?

"No?" Kafei said. "They carry themselves differently. Look at you, you're slouching!"

"I'm trying to relax!"

"Who said you could relax? We're all on the clock here!"

"Paya-nee!"

Ishida's tone turned a little whiny, and Link dared to look back just in time to catch Paya rolling her eyes at her cousin (or second...or third...cousin? Their family tree was a confusing mess despite the quick rundown Kafei had given them).

"Kafei, we are not in a time crunch yet," Paya said evenly. "Calm down."

"Easy for you to say," Kafei muttered. "You're not the one paying the fees."

"Ah, small labels, gotta love 'em," Zelda whispered, eyes glued to Paya as the suit-clad guard walked over to the huddle of Sheikah, giving both Kafei and Ishida a talk in their native tongue. Her eyes widened a little. "Hylia, that language! Those rolling Rs!"

Link adjusted his internal bet with himself to ten minutes. At most she'd last that long before throwing herself at the Sheikah and asking her if she wants to make out in the stairwell.

"Please don't make out with her in the stairwell," he muttered.

Zelda didn't even pretend to be outraged. "Oh, wouldn't dream of it," she said. "A girl like that, you take to the roof. Her hair must be so beautiful in the sun..."

"Enough with the powder!"

"Look, Ani, you gotta pull harder otherwise the thing'll slip down and expose his nipples!"

"I fail to see the issue."

"Yeah, well, I see it pretty fucking clearly!" Ishida shouted. "Pull, damn it!"

"That's the spirit, Sheik! Let's lace you up nice and snug!"

"Get your hands off me!"

Link didn't really catch the last part of the shouting match, his mind's eye taking the words he heard and creating some very vivid images. Very vivid, pleasant images indeed. It wasn't a crime to imagine things, was it?

Beside him, Zelda winced. "I wonder if I have any earplugs lying around..." When Link didn't respond, she looked at him with a smug grin. "Where are you taking Ishida, huh? He doesn't strike me as a stairwell kind of guy."

Link, rudely brought back to reality, huffed and turned away as his cheeks warmed up considerably. "I wasn't thinking about _that_!"

"Sure you weren't, little brother," Zelda said, her tone conveying no such thing as assurance. "Sure you weren't. There's a broom cupboard near the elevator, maybe a quick tryst in there will—"

"Shut up, please!"

* * *

Link looked into the viewfinder, swallowing nervously as the three models walked in front of the screen, all wearing variations of the outfits Link had seen at the fashion show.

Ishida had been forced into something that made him look like a ninja prostitute of sorts. His upper body was mostly covered by the fake leather corset Kafei had gushed about, his lower covered in sinfully short...well, shorts that didn't really cover anything, displaying long, muscular and very smooth legs. The view only ended when one reached his ankles, where those weird ninja shoes with the separate toe covered up his feet. He was wearing elbow-length gloves that, with the exception of the hand part, was mostly fishnet. His hair was pulled up into a bun and held in place with criss-crossing sticks, the lower half of his face hidden by a mask.

Kiro and Rena were, by comparison, practically chaste in their outfits, being mostly generic ninja outfits, though skin-tight and showing off their bodies with strategically placed fishnet windows. Interestingly enough, Kiro had the outfit where the fishnet gave the viewer a full view of his chest.

Kafei had...interesting ideas about what should be everyday wear.

They stood there for a moment, Kiro and Rena looking comfortable, while Ishida looked like he couldn't figure out how he wanted to stand, continually fidgeting and picking at his clothes, which Kafei kept hissing at him for.

Link swallowed again. Right, it was his turn now, wasn't it? He drew a breath but found himself unable to say anything. He tried again. Failed again.

"Right," Zelda said, slightly behind and to the left of him, operating the secondary camera. "Why don't we just warm up a bit? You guys just pose—explore the space a little—and we'll take some test pictures, figure out the lighting and such, yeah?"

"Sounds good to me, boss," Kiro said, turning to Rena and nodding. "Bodyguards?"

"Bodyguards," Rena confirmed.

Ishida looked confused. "What do you mea—wah!"

He was pulled to stand between the two of them, who struck dramatic and imposing poses, like they were Ishida's protectors and about to kick the ass of someone who'd insulted or threatened him. Ishida himself stood there awkwardly, unable to find to his balance or something to do with his hands, which he kept stiffly at his sides.

It was almost like he was...nervous?

Link shook his head. Couldn't be. The Ishida he'd seen on the catwalk had been the very definition of confidence. There hadn't been a single shred of doubt or anxiety in that walk, in the swaying of those hips, in the twirl, in the smirk. Sure, he couldn't see Ishida's face because of the mask at the moment but Link highly doubted he'd be displaying another one of those confident grins right then.

He didn't have much time to contemplate it, however, as Zelda's camera began to click, the lights flashing at different tempos as she tried out different settings. It reminded Link that he was there to do a job, and so he looked into the viewfinder once more, and started shooting.

* * *

Sheik could safely say he had never been this uncomfortable in his life. Stuck between Kiro and Rena, who seemed like they'd been born to do this shit, he felt about as graceful as a potato with arms and legs. They posed like they were awesome bodyguards, but what did that leave him as?

"Easy," Kafei said, surrounded by his minions just behind the cameras, looking eager, "you're the mysterious courtesan they're protecting! The coy beauty that everyone wants a piece of! Try to look seductive, like you know how much everyone wants you, but that they can also never have you!"

"That's so messed up," he muttered, awkwardly doing his best to look seductive. He had a feeling he was anything but, especially judging by the Hyrule girl's grimace behind her camera.

The other Hyrule was suspiciously quiet, but his face was hidden behind his gear, so Sheik couldn't gauge his reaction.

Not that he cared, of course. If anything, it was a blessing he couldn't see the guy drooling all over him again.

"Sheik," Rena said quietly, "try taking a deep breath and stretching."

He did so.

"Now, place your foot like this, and your other foot like this," Rena continued, instructing Sheik to assume a pose that was half-turned away, like he was about to leave whatever room he and his guards were standing in, looking over his shoulder at the viewer...that is, the camera.

"Oh, that's a good one," Kafei said happily. "But you look like you're about to throw up, Sheik. Try lowering your eyelids a little. You're about to walk away triumphantly from a room full of people knocked out by your beauty!"

Sheik tried to imagine such a scenario...and all he could imagine was either running away from such a room at full speed...or threatening to tie everyone inside into knots. Fuck, he didn't need guards for that, he'd do it himself single-handedly!

"Curve your spine a little," Kiro suddenly said, joining in on the instruction. "You're looking far too tense."

"Put your right hand on your hip, and the other on my shoulder," Rena said. "Like you're saying you're leaving it to me."

"What is this," Sheik said, "a roleplaying session?"

"Er, yes?" Zelda said. "If that works for you."

"It does not—hey!"

Kiro grabbed Sheik by the hips and made him stick his butt out a little...towards the camera. Fucking perv.

"That's your money-maker," Kiro said with a wink.

There was a series of clicks and flashes as another round of photos were taken.

"Much better," Zelda said. "How about yours, Link?"

"B-Better, yeah," Link said, still refusing to peek out from behind his gear. The coward. "Um..."

"What?" Sheik asked icily.

"C-Could you maybe smile?" Link asked. "I can kind of _tell_ that you're scowling under the mask. It doesn't really make you look the kind of arrogant we're going for."

Huh.

Well, at least he wasn't asking Sheik to spread his legs more or some other disgusting thing.

Smiling, huh?

Well, Sheik could do that.

He plastered on a big, fake smile under his mask, feeling the edges of his mask rubbing against his cheeks as the muscles of his face shifted under his skin. Right, maybe this was more of a psychotic grin, but what could he do? This was a completely psychotic situation!

"That's a little too much," Link commented from behind the camera, finally peeking out from behind it to look Sheik directly in the eyes. He looked supremely uncomfortable while doing it...but at least there was no drool to be seen. "You're confident, not deranged."

Sheik growled. "Oh, I'll show you deranged—"

"He's right, Sheik," Kafei said, cutting him off. "You look a bit like a comic book villain about to kill his arch-enemy. Tone it down just a bit, like...like that time you completely humiliated that kid who was, like, twice your size in the judo ring back when we were kids."

Oh...that _had_ been a good day. Just the memory of easily slipping through that arrogant piece of shit's defences and throwing him to the floor with barely any effort put a smile on his face.

Evidently, the right one, too.

"Perfect!" Zelda exclaimed. "Link, shoot, shoot!"

"On it," Link announced, and Sheik spent the next couple of seconds being blinded by the flash as he did his best to maintain the smile under his mask.

* * *

It was interesting, how different Ishida was when being photographed than he was at...well, at any other time. He almost seemed a little shy, accepting corrections not only from his fellow models, but Kafei and even _Link_ with barely any cursing at all.

Where his confidence from the catwalk had gone, Link had no idea, but he found that he quite liked this side of Ishida as well. He'd been expecting a lot of pushback whenever he nervously made suggestions to the poses the three of them could try, but there was barely any at all.

Well, not physically at least. He still mumbled and cursed, but it was a far cry from the earlier shouting.

"Ahem," Zelda cleared her throat pointedly, drawing Link's attention. "Link, could you take a look at this shot..."

He looked at the screen of the secondary camera but didn't find a shot there. Instead, Zelda yanked his head closer, so his ear was near her mouth.

"You gotta get in the game, little brother," she whispered. "A lead photographer is supposed to keep making suggestions and direct the shoot the whole time. You've barely said a word. Shinobi will see through the ruse at this rate."

"I'm not good at giving orders, you know that," Link whispered back.

"Oh, Link...look, how about this: Pretend you're out in the wilds, right? Pretend that you've just spotted a family of wolves—three of them, in fact. Now, imagine that instead of just having to make do with whatever poses and such you can shoot, imagine that you're able to give them orders. Imagine that you can make a group of wolves pose exactly the way you want. Like...like that stupid T-shirt. Imagine you can make them pose like they do on that!"

Link leaned back and stared at his sister with a look he truly hoped conveyed his incredulity. "What does that even mean? Half the point in taking nature photographs is that they're _not_ posed like that! They're as _natural_ as they can get!"

"I don't fucking know what I'm saying at this point," Zelda said. "Between you playing the wallflower and Paya over there looking like an avatar of the goddess of beauty, I'm desperate to get this thing moving! My reputation is at stake, damn it! Look, just...just look at the three of them, and _know_ you can make them stand, pose, and do whatever you want them to! They're ninjas, for Hylia's sake! Make them do ninja stuff!"

Link mulled it over for a moment. Ninja stuff, huh? Well...he could work with that. If anyone didn't like what he was doing, he assumed they'd interfere.

"Okay," he said, nodding. "Let's try it." He went back to his camera and cleared his throat, drawing the models' attention to himself. "So...uh...you're ninjas, right?"

"What, in real life or in the shoot?" Ishida drawled.

"Very funny," Link replied. "The shoot."

"Your guess is as good as mine," Ishida said, looking to his cousin for the definite answer. "What do you say, Kaf? Ninjas?"

"What could possibly give you that idea?" Kafei asked, sounding incredulous. "It's only the whole image of what I designed this collection around!"

Ishida nodded and looked back at Link. "Yeah, ninjas."

Link fought down a grin. Ishida was an ass, for sure, but he sure was entertaining when he was being an ass to someone other than Link.

"Right, so," Link continued, fighting through his suddenly very mixed feelings about the model, "if you guys are ninjas, maybe we should lean even further into that."

"How so?" Kiro asked.

"Well, you know...do some cool poses and stuff? Really _pretend_ to be ninjas?" He thought about it for a moment. "I mean, do any of you do martial arts? Maybe you can do some poses from that?"

The whole room suddenly fell silent, and Link grew nervous at the identical smirks that came to Kiro and Rena's faces, as well as the way Ishida's face muscles twitched under his mask, suggesting another grin. The three of them exchanged a look, and Ishida said,

"Sure, how about this?"

As one, they each assumed a pose that was, Link assumed, to do with martial arts. He was by no means an expert, but he could tell by the practised and comfortable way they moved into the positions that it was something they'd done before, many times.

Now they weren't just models pretending to be dangerous ninjas. They _were_ dangerous ninjas! Link took several photos, suggesting minute changes that only made the pictures better and better.

He wasn't sure if this was doing wonders for the shoot itself, but Ishida was certainly far more into the idea, his stiff awkwardness from before melting into smooth and fluid movements that were, in a way, far more graceful than Link had assumed he'd be capable of.

"Now we're talking," Kafei said, sounding happy. "More of that, please!"

"Yeah, this is good stuff!" Zelda agreed, her own camera clicking away. "Rena, could you turn a little more towards me, please?"

"Of course," Rena said, doing so.

"Perfect," Zelda said. "Your shadow mirrors you perfectly like that, makes for a compelling composition. Link, make sure you get a few pics too!"

"Got it," Link said, regretfully turning his viewfinder away from Ishida for a moment. There was something mesmerising about the way Ishida's thigh muscles rippled as he sank into low poses, and Link was worried about subconsciously focusing his photos on those.

Or any of the other parts of him that were on display.

Fuck, was he about to start drooling again?

I am such a fucking disaster, he thought, ducking behind his camera again, just in case.

He failed to notice Kafei giving him a calculating look, a grin slowly spreading on the designer's face.

* * *

Honestly, this could be a whole lot worse, Sheik decided.

They were a few hours into the shoot now, and while the first half hour or so had been incredibly awkward for both the models and the photographers, once Hyrule found his stride and began to give out commands rather than suggestions, everything seemed to fall in place.

Of course, his outfits were still embarrassing as fuck. The catwalk outfit made an unwelcome appearance once more, but luckily Kafei didn't demand that Sheik twirl to show off the damned panties again. Hyrule didn't start drooling, either, which Sheik considered a triumph on everyone's account.

On the other hand, his _sister_ appeared to be on the verge of starting to drool over Paya-nee, which would be an unforgivable crime that Sheik could never tolerate, so he kept a close eye on her.

"A little more hostility please, Mr. Ishida," Zelda said. "Pretend like all you want to do is, like, slit my throat or something for insulting your family!"

"No problem," he said, putting everything he was feeling about the girl into the smouldering glare he directed towards her camera.

Stay the fuck away from Paya-nee, you perv, he thought.

"Ishida," Hyrule said, drawing Sheik's attention. "Crouch down and hold out your knife in a reverse grip, like you're standing guard over your lord on the floor behind you."

Sheik did so, flipping the prop kunai he was holding so the blade was pointing down, doing his best to pretend he was protecting his charge. "Like this?" he asked.

"Left leg a little more forward," Hyrule said.

Sheik obeyed, finding that he liked this confident side of Hyrule a lot more than the awkward, fumbling idiot from before. He also appreciated the fact that this pose made his skirt droop down and cover him up a little more. It seemed the Hylian wasn't _just_ interested in what was under his skirt.

...and why the fuck did that make Sheik's heart beat a little faster?

Nah, couldn't be. Must be the whole situation making him anxious and uncertain, and the stage lights...and the fucking starvation he'd put himself through for this day. His heart was working overtime, of course it'd be beating a little faster now and then.

Speaking of the stage lights, it was getting really fucking hot in here. There were at least twelve strong bulbs beaming down on the three of them which, combined with the strain of some of the poses they assumed, was making Sheik feel like he was standing in a damned desert.

"Link?" Zelda asked. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Hyrule said as he stepped away from the camera and unzipped his hoodie. "Just need to take this thing off, I'm about to melt in here!"

Fair enough, Sheik thought. Hyrule wasn't standing in the direct line of fire from the lamps, but that bulky hoodie was probably still unbearably hot, and he couldn't blame him for...for...

...for...

...what was he thinking about again?

His train of thought came to a grinding halt as the hoodie fell away, revealing that Hyrule was wearing a black T-shirt beneath...and it was tight.

So.

Fucking.

Tight.

Where Sheik had assumed Hyrule to be a little pudgy because of the hoodie, he was proven entirely wrong by the physique the photographer had been hiding.

The guy was fucking _ripped_!

Sheik could _see_ his abs through his shirt, for Din's sake! How was that even possible?! It clung to him like a second layer of skin! And his pecs! And the biceps! The triceps! His waist narrowed to an almost unfair degree, though everything beneath it was hidden by his slightly baggy jeans. Even so, it was clear this guy didn't skip leg day at the gym!

"Whoo, that's better," Hyrule said, sighing in relief.

"I'll say," Kafei commented from the couch, where he was preparing a new outfit with his minions, whistling appreciatively. "You should throw that hoodie away, Mr. Hyrule. It does _not_ do you justice."

Sheik gritted his teeth. Fucking Kafei, flirting so openly like that. Didn't he know how inappropriate that was? Besides, Hyrule's focus was supposed to be on _him_ , not the purple idiot!

...wait, what?

He shook his head. His head was getting woozy. Blood sugar was getting dangerously low, probably.

Yeah, that was it.

What time was it? Surely they'd break for lunch soon? Was Zelda ever going to feed them?

"Right, where were we?" Hyrule said, looking at the models. "Hm...right. Ishida, maybe you could...no, wait, that'll just be an upskirt shot..."

"I fail to see the problem," Kafei said happily. "Make him do a cartwheel!"

He wasn't sure what it was about that statement that made Sheik see red, but it definitely fucking did.

"Yeah, well, I fucking do!" he shrieked as loudly as he could. "Why do _they_ —"he gestured to Kiro and Rena, in their outfits that were only slightly skimpy"—get to cover up while I'm looking like I'm about to start dancing on a pole at any moment?!"

Next to Kafei, Hyrule had winced at his high-pitched tone, but seemed otherwise unbothered by his outburst. Unlike everyone else in the room, who grimaced and covered their ears a little.

Weaklings.

"Because you look damn good in those outfits?" Kafei suggested. Sheik's glare made him falter a little. "Well, I don't really have any other outfits with your measurements."

"Kiro and I are identical in size! You said so yourself!"

"More or less," Kafei conceded, "but he's a little...bulkier? A little more physically imposing than you are. You're more...delicate—"

"Delicate?!" Sheik shrieked even louder.

"...until you open your mouth, at least," Kafei amended. He sighed. "Well, I have do have _one_ outfit that's a little more covering, but I'm not sure it's your st—"

"I'll take it!"

He was tired of being paraded around half-naked. It was one of the other's turn now!

His cousin looked ready to argue, but Paya's quiet voice from the other side of the studio cut him short.

"Let him cover up, Kafei," she said. "You've got enough skimpy shots."

Kafei sighed. "Fine," he said in a whiny tone. "But don't say I didn't try to warn you, Sheik."

"As long as it doesn't show my ass, I'm happy," Sheik said confidently.

He'd regret his words very shortly after.


	8. Chapter 8

While the Sheikah retreated to the couch and gathered around Sheik to put him the new outfit he'd demanded, Link and Zelda conferred behind their cameras, going through a few of the shots they'd taken.

"This is good," Zelda said, grinning at the camera, focusing on one shot in particular. It was of Ishida, crouching low, with Kiro and Rena hovering in the background, giving the viewer a wicked, challenging grin that could be interpreted either as lascivious or taunting. "He looks like either wants to sleep with you, kick your ass, or both."

"Probably just the ass kicking part," Link said "Guy can't stand me."

"Well, you had a rough start, but at least you're able to work together," Zelda said, giving him a sly look. "And you? Sleep with, kick ass, or both?"

Never mind the fact that this was far from something Link wanted to talk to his sister about. Zelda had never given much thought to decorum, especially not after Link had come out to her during high school. She'd gone for the jugular right away and tried to set him up with a whole bunch of guys she knew.

They'd all ended in disaster.

Link chose not to answer. Frankly because he wasn't sure himself. Each moment he interacted with Ishida, it went from one to the other, then shifting back. He supposed that technically meant both, but...

"I respectfully decline to answer," he finally said. Zelda rolled her eyes, but didn't press further, finishing her perusal of the photos.

"These are all good, Link," she said, smiling. "Thank you so much for agreeing to this."

"Yeah, well..."

"Excuse me, Miss Hyrule?"

Link _saw_ the change in Zelda the moment Paya's voice spoke behind them. Her tone was even and serious, nothing flirtatious about it at all, but Zelda reacted like Paya had just suggested they do some _extracurricular_ activities, based on the way she blushed. If this were an anime, her nose would be gushing blood already.

His sister had never been a good poker player.

"Y-Yes!" she exclaimed, whirling around to face the suit-clad security guard. "What can I do for you?!" she more or less shouted in Paya's face.

The Sheikah took it stoically, not even flinching. "I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time. I have some questions regarding your cyber security setup..."

"O-Of course!" Zelda replied, still shouting into poor Paya's face. "What would you like to know?!"

"Well, I noticed that you have a guest network set up, but it appears to be unsecured. Even if this network doesn't have access to your server, I highly recommend that you secure it with a password-and a difficult one, at that-just in case. I can show you how, if you wish?"

Link suppressed his frustrated groan. He'd been telling Zelda to do that for months, but her ability to follow through with IT-related stuff was about as well-developed as her scheduling ability.

"Yes please," Zelda said.

There'd be hearts in her eyes by now.

Paya bore it well, giving Zelda a polite smile as they headed for Zelda's desk and the computer on it.

Well, Link suspected he wouldn't be seeing much of her for the rest of the day.

"What the fuck is this?!"

At this point, Ishida's shouting didn't even surprise him. He simply went about his business, resetting his gear for round two.

* * *

Sheik never learned. When dealing with Kafei, any sort of compromise reached would always be in _his_ favour, even if he made it sound like it was of mutual benefit. In this case, it couldn't even be called that; it was more of a "Heads, I win, tails, you lose," situation.

Oh, sure, the outfit he'd just been put in _was_ more covering, technically, but it somehow seemed even worse than the other one, because this one _pretended_ to be modest.

It was a kimono, dark blue, with the red Sheikah eye patterned all over it. That in itself wasn't the problem. The problem was the length. It ended just a few inches above his knees, but each movement he made had the fabric sliding up a little, exposing his thighs in a way that felt far obscener than the shorts had.

There was no right sleeve, or rather it was pulled back and down, tied down beneath the wide obi (which was tied into a big bow behind his back), revealing the right side of Sheik's upper body.

One of Kafei's little minions had attached some sort of butterfly-shaped hair accessory to the side of his head, while the bun his hair had been kept in had been loosened and several locks were braided.

All in all, while the exposed shoulder might have looked a bit badass, the other touches like the nearly revealed thighs and other touches just made it look more feminine.

Sheik hated it.

"You just can't design a _normal_ outfit, can you?" he asked, glaring at his cousin, the man behind all his misery. "What's wrong with a regular kimono? A fully covering one?"

"Oh, that's part of the collection, too," Kafei said, waving his hand dismissively. "But that's not what this shoot is about. We're here to show that my designs are daring and bold and will shake up the dreary fashion world!"

"By dressing everyone like ninja rent boys?" Sheik asked.

"If I must," Kafei nodded. "I'll show that hack Elenwe that ninjas are where it's at, not fucking desert nomads or whatever she's trying to push this time!"

"Why do you have to drag _me_ into your pissing match with your fashion rival?!"

Kafei pretended to give the question some thought. "For funsies?" he said.

Sheik groaned and hid his face in his hands, earning himself a judgemental tongue click from the minion in charge of make-up. Someone tapped his foot, and he lifted without thinking, letting them slide a wooden sandal onto it. The process was repeated with his other foot. Only when he put it down, Sheik realised he was suddenly a little taller.

"Kafei," he said, still hiding his face.

"Yes, cousin?"

"Am I wearing _geta_?"

"Yes, you are!"

"Why?"

"...well, you've always wanted to be taller, haven't you?"

"What the fuck?!"

* * *

The shoot continued. Despite his earlier outburst, Ishida was being quieter now. He almost seemed embarrassed, his cheeks dusted with red.

"Come on, everyone!" Kafei exclaimed from just behind Link. "It's festival time! Let's all be happy and cheerful! We're having the time of our lives!"

Kiro and Rena were in kimonos as well, much in the same style as Ishida's, though they seemed to be exceedingly comfortable in theirs, having no trouble sliding around in front of the camera, posing alternatively sensuously and ecstatically with each other. Occasionally, Ishida was brought between them, sometimes in a group hug, but sometimes like a lover.

The last part was Kafei's idea.

"Now, Rena," Kafei said, "hold Sheik against your bosom like a mother, and Kiro...hm...maybe grab his buttock?"

Link didn't consider himself a prude, but he found that to be an incredibly inappropriate thing for him to say about his own cousin. Judging by Ishida's grimace, he didn't like it much either.

Zelda was no help, still being helped with her cyber security setup by Paya, making googly eyes at the pretty Sheikah.

So...

Link made a decision.

"I think we've got enough suggestive photos, Mr. Kafei," he said, turning to look at the designer. "We're dangerously close to turning this into a soft-core pornography shoot, and that's not what the contract stipulated."

"What?" Kafei asked. "But that's...really, _pornography_? What kind of sheltered upbringing did you have?"

"A daring pose is fine," Link maintained, "but models grabbing each other's asses? That's not fashion. That's _porn_ , Mr. Kafei, and that's not my job."

Kafei looked positively offended by that. "Hmph, big words coming from the man who took a bunch of upskirt photos at the show."

"I also took a lot of _non_ -upskirt photos, but I guess those weren't of interest to you," Link countered. "Again, I have to insist that we keep this PG-13."

Kafei maintained his glare for a few moments, but then relented. "Fine, I guess you're right. Sorry, I get a little caught up in these things."

"Good," Link said, nodding. "Festival friends, then?"

"Sounds good to me," Kafei said. "Okay guys, you heard the man. Just having fun at a festival now!"

"Got it, boss," Kiro said.

Link turned back to his camera and continued to shoot. He didn't notice the appreciative look he got from Ishida...or the calculating yet approving one he got from Kafei.

After that, things were...easier. Ishida's uncharacteristic tranquillity continued, but he seemed far less...uncomfortable now. Maybe without Kafei's continued suggestions to look salacious, he felt more confident. A bit odd, since Link assumed Ishida would be used to it by now, being a model and all, but he was just happy that the shoot was moving along at a good pace now.

Mostly because Link himself was feeling more comfortable with issuing instructions and making adjustments to the scenes now. Zelda had disappeared into conversation with Paya, and now that he wasn't feeling her gaze boring into the back of his head, he wasn't afraid of fucking up too badly.

That said, directing three models at the same time was exhausting, and when he gently suggested to Kafei that they do some single shots, the designer was thrilled.

"Excellent idea!" he exclaimed. "Let's do Sheik's first! He's the centrepiece! Rena, Kiro, get over here. It's time for a wardrobe change anyway!"

Ah.

Well.

Link was suddenly a bit unsure again. He'd hoped to be able to warm up with Kiro and Rena, who seemed far more comfortable with this gig than Ishida, but here he was...and he suddenly found himself completely blank on what to do.

"Treat him like a sexy mannequin," Zelda's voice suddenly whispered in his ear, and it took every single bit of self-control he had not to scream.

"How long were you standing there?" he hissed.

"Long enough to see you freeze," his sister said, nodding to his camera. "Lose the tripod-time to get those angles and energy Kafei loved so much. And, seriously, just treat him like you would a mannequin. It's time to show off the fit and fabric-and make sure he pops his legs. Bitches love popped legs."

And then she was gone. Link looked back and found her, predictably, standing next to Paya, talking with one of the minions.

No help there, in other words.

Taking a deep breath, Link looked back ahead, finding Ishida standing there with an expectant yet hesitant look, waiting for instructions.

Ah, fuck it. _Fake it till you make it_ , wasn't that the expression?

"Right," he said, unscrewing his camera from the tripod and walking up to Ishida. "I think that's enough for the theatrics, don't you?" Ishida nodded, confused. "We need to get a bunch of shots to show off the clothes themselves-like, fabrics and stuff. So...just do as I say, okay?"

"No funny business, though," Ishida said, grimacing.

"No funny business," Link confirmed with a nod. "So...shall we?"

* * *

Sheik didn't understand what was happening. Hyrule had changed completely from the nervous fool he'd been at the start of the shoot. He seemed to have found his feet a little halfway through, but now that it was just him and Sheik, he'd turned into someone else entirely.

Instead of nervously suggesting poses and carefully issuing corrections, he was now firmly guiding Sheik through a set of poses, all meant to show off the quality and fit of Kafei's design, and not a shred of perversity to be found in them. Many of them had Sheik staring into space, looking thoughtful, but also relaxed. Some had him posing triumphantly or stretching languidly. Some had him grinning like an idiot, others scowling or pouting.

But at no point was he asked to flip up the lower part of his kimono to show off those damned panties, nor was he asked to emphasise the parts of him that were uncovered. In fact, Hyrule almost asked him to do the opposite. It was all very...innocent almost.

The weirdest thing was how much Sheik found himself not minding being ordered around by this confident version of Hyrule. In fact, he found himself quite enjoying it. There was something almost...attractive about him, like this, in fact. The way those blue eyes roamed over Sheik, not in a horny manner, but professional, just analysing and trying to find the best way to show off Kafei's clothes using Sheik as a living mannequin.

And the expression he made was...for the lack of a better word, smouldering. Whether he did it on purpose or not, Sheik had no idea, but it was really...appealing.

Combined with the tight T-shirt showing off a physique that one usually only saw on people whose livelihoods depended on looking good...

His cheeks grew warm for the umpteenth time that day, but not out of embarrassment this time, but...

No!

Damn it, this was so fucking annoying! Sheik was supposed to be pissed at this guy for being a creepy, slobbering horn dog, but now he found himself _liking_ him for his professional and, quite frankly, hot gaze.

Honestly, sometimes his eyes reminded Sheik of a wolf's. Not one out stalking prey, but the one watching a photographer curiously but cautiously.

"Good," Hyrule said quietly. "Very good. Turn a little towards me."

Sheik did so.

"Bend your right knee just a bit, and your foot outwards."

"Sheik did that, too.

"Good," Hyrule said, his voice low. "Very good. Hold that pose for me..."

His camera clicked several times as he moved around Sheik, getting him from every angle save for the low ones that would expose the stupid underwear. Sheik did _not_ shiver a little at the approving tone from Hyrule.

He did _not_!

* * *

Something had changed in Ishida. Link wasn't sure what, but instead of grouchily and reluctantly complying with Link's instructions, as he had before, he was now doing exactly as he was told right away, making adjustments immediately as Link requested them.

Link took him through the typical poses Zelda had shown him during the preparations for the shoot. He wasn't sure if the typical ones were the best for showing off Kafei's particular designs, so he made a few adjustments along the way.

Ishida just accepted it all without complaint. In fact, he barely spoke at all. He was just...quietly posing. His eyes kept meeting Link's, and for the first time, without all the noise and distractions from before, Link could really notice how red they were. All the Sheikah had red eyes, but Ishida's seemed...deeper, somehow. And more vivid. Link was sure to take a few shots focusing on those eyes in particular-they matched the eye pattern of the kimono quite nicely, in fact.

About halfway through the normal poses, Link started making Ishida do a few martial arts poses again, which showcased the model's muscles underneath the silk-like material of the kimono very nicely. Whatever workout regime or martial art Ishida did, it left him in very nice shape.

But what really made Link grow a little hot under the collar (apart from the heat of the lamps) was just the quiet, almost shy demeanour of Ishida as he continued to obey and quietly pose the way Link asked him to.

"Okay," he said, drawing Ishida's attention to him immediately. "I want to take some close-up shots now. Get the fabric in focus, you know? Maybe a few low angles-"

Ishida's eyes widened a little. "I don't think-"

"Nothing _up_ ," Link said hurriedly. "None of that. Just...I'll have you look down at the camera. Superior-like, yeah?"

Ishida looked sceptical, but eventually nodded. "Okay," he said.

Link stepped closer and got down on one knee, beckoning Ishida closer. "If you stand here," he gestured to the point right in front of himself, "and I shoot up, from your waist, we'll get the light reflecting off the shiny threads. If you look a little...hm...smug, we can get a regal and dignified feel."

"Oh," Ishida said, looking surprised. "That sounds...good."

"Come closer, then."

"Right."

Fuck, why was Ishida doing as he was told so fucking appealing to Link? Sure, the twirl on the catwalk had been phenomenal in its own right but was this was entirely different. Maybe because it was such a contrast to the loud, obstinate shit he'd been earlier.

Damn it, he was supposed to be professional, not entranced by the model!

Focus, Link, focus!

Right, he had pictures to take, and lots of them.

For a while, all the sound that passed between him and Ishida were the clicks of Link's camera.

He fell into a bit of a trance, his sight and ears filled only with Ishida and his kimono. He had no idea how many pictures he took, but when he next looked down the screen was covered in a storage depletion warning, telling him he only had about a few dozen more photos before he needed to change the memory card.

"All right!" Zelda announced. "I think it's time to take a break!"

Link breathed a sigh of relief, a tension he hadn't even realised was building within him suddenly releasing. Ishida seemed much the same, his pose sagging a little.

Link gave him a little smile and looked behind himself...and found the whole studio in an odd state.

Zelda was behind the secondary camera, trying her best to look innocent.

Suspicious.

Kafei and Paya were right behind her, also looking innocent.

Even more suspicious. At least in Kafei's case. Paya seemed trustworthy.

For now.

The minions appeared to be restraining Kiro and Rena, whose eyes were bulging and faces scandalised.

What the fuck even was that?

Well, whatever it was, Link didn't care. He was tired and needed a break. And something to eat and drink because goddamn was he thirsty and famished, and...well, he kind of wanted to ask Ishida if he wanted to have lunch together.

To give them a better chance to bury the hatchet.

Nothing more than that.

He opened his mouth to ask, but he was interrupted by Kafei.

"Hey, Sheik! If you want to text your boyfriend during the break, that's fine by me. Paya, get him his phone."

Link turned back to Ishida just in time to see the model's face turn bright red, his mouth opening and closing several times as all that came out was several false starts and syllables. "I...wha...you...Kaf!"

Huh, so Ishida wasn't single...

Something in Link's chest gave a slight twinge, but he ignored it.

Stomped it down.

Crushed it under the heaviest weight he could find.

"I'm going to the bathroom!" he announced loudly as he marched past Zelda, shoving his camera into her hands as he did so.

* * *

Sheik stared after Hyrule as he literally stomped off towards the bathroom like a toddler, just after announcing his need to use it, confused as all fuck. The professional and serious attitude the Hylian showed before had evaporated in an instant the moment his sister had announced their break, leaving Sheik with the impression, once again, that the guy was a complete buffoon.

Other than when working, apparently.

He shook his head, disappointed that he'd been wrong, focusing instead on glaring at his cousin, who was about to pay for that boyfriend comment.

"The fuck's the matter with you?!" he shrieked.

"I figured you'd want to tell young Sidon how the shoot is going?" Kafei said, trying to look innocent. "He was so excited for you-"

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"Oh, but you looked so chummy at the party-"

"We're friends, nothing more!"

Which was a shame, but what could he do? Well, invite Sidon for a spar at the dojo, he supposed. Maybe Hyrule too, if only so Sheik could have an excuse to kick his ass. It'd be cathartic, maybe even for Hyrule if he was the masochistic type.

"Ah, well, foolish me," Kafei said with a shrug. "Miss Hyrule, where are we on lunch?"

Sheik's stomach growled at the mention of food, and all thoughts of perverted idiot Hylians with stupidly handsome faces disappeared, and he excitedly turned towards the Trifocus owner.

"What're we having?" he asked eagerly.

Zelda looked stricken. "Hehe," she said with a smile that looked like it was about to crack. "Funny story...about that..."

Sheik's stomach twisted and lurched. This couldn't be...

"What's the matter?" Paya asked.

"Ehehe...I... _may_ have forgotten to call the caterer," the photographer said, looking embarrassed.

In the corner of his vision, Kafei braced himself.

"What?!" Sheik shouted. "How the fuck could you forget that?!"

"I was going to!" Zelda said, pointing at her phone. "Had it written down in my schedule and everything! Except..."

"Except?" Sheik repeated slowly.

"...something came up?"

This was it. This was the day Sheik murdered someone. He opened his mouth again, one hell of a salvo of adjectives prepared, but Rena was suddenly standing behind him, snaking her arm around Sheik's waist and covering his mouth with her other hand.

"Let's say not anything we'll regret, hm?" Rena suggested. "I'm hungry too, but we're all professionals here."

"Not her, clearly," Sheik muttered under her hand.

"Hmph," Rena hummed, her own stomach making a sound like a purring cat. "Still."

"There's no food?!" Kiro wailed, throwing himself on the couch dramatically. "I'm going to die!"

The minions joined him in his wailing, crying about starving to death in a chorus of whining that, frankly, had Sheik plotting his escape. Or a murderous, cannibalistic spree.

Either or, really.

"I think I saw a convenience store a few blocks from here," Paya said, shutting down the wailing choir with a decisive blow. "Why don't I go get something?"

Sheik's gut continued to voice its displeasure at the lack of nourishment, and while he was immensely disappointed there wasn't going to be any fancy catered stuff, right now he'd happily eat anything.

Or anyone.

Like Zelda, if she continued to give Paya-nee that hungry look.

"That is an excellent idea, Paya!" Zelda announced. "I will go with you!"

"Is it really such a good idea?" Rena asked doubtfully, stepping away from Sheik now that she could be (reasonably) sure that he wasn't about to commit murder. "I mean, shouldn't you be staying here to keep an eye on things?"

"Oh, my brother will take care of that!" Zelda said, pointing at Hyrule as he emerged from the bathroom looking quite miserable. "Link!"

His eyes widened. "What?" he asked.

"Paya and I are stepping out for a moment to get some food."

"Why?" Hyrule asked, grimacing as he came to a conclusion. "You forgot to call the caterer, didn't you?" he said accusingly.

"Not important!" the sister exclaimed. "As I said, I'm stepping out, and I need you to keep an eye on things and stop everyone from eating each other. Sound good? Great!"

The guy wasn't given a moment to protest as Zelda, in a feat of impressive speed and guile, managed to hook her arm in Paya's and more or less drag her out of the office.

Impressive, because Paya-nee wasn't the sort to just let herself be manhandled by anyone, much less someone she didn't like.

...unless...

Nah, couldn't be.

So here they were, standing in a rough circle, all eyes on Hyrule as he looked very much like a deer caught in the headlights of an incoming car, suddenly in charge of a studio filled with three two models, one judo instructor, one designer, and a small army of assistants.

All of them starving.

The cannibalistic murder spree was starting to seem more and more likely.

"So," Kafei said, looking oddly cheerful. "How about a game of Never Have I Ever?"

Sheik punched him in the throat.

* * *

**Two minutes later, in the parking garage**

* * *

Zelda couldn't keep her eyes off Paya as they headed for the Shinobi van. They'd need it if they were going to get enough food for everyone. Frankly, some of them had looked hungry enough to start killing and eating each other.

And Zelda couldn't have people eating each other in her studio.

Unless it was the sexy kind.

Speaking of sexy, it was unfair how beautiful Paya was. Seriously, how could a girl both look like the very image of innocence and sex at the same time? It was ridiculous! Even worse, it didn't look like the slightest thing bothered her or threw her off. She bore with every bit of insanity with a calm she'd only seen on monks in the old temples they'd toured in the mountains.

Clearly, she was some sort of goddess.

Her physique under that suit certainly supported that hypothesis.

Gods, how Zelda wanted to see it bared...

The van's lights flashed as Paya unlocked it with the remote key, opening the sliding door and rearranging some of the boxes inside to make room for the food they'd buy. It forced her to bend over, and Zelda had never been so grateful for the trend of tight suit pants as it gave her ample view of sheer buns of fucking steel.

"...are you all right?"

How long had she been staring? And spacing out? Long enough for Paya to turn around and face her again, apparently. Her lips (sinfully moist) were turned down in a slight frown, looking at Zelda with a little concern.

"Miss Hyrule?"

"P-Please, call me Zelda," she replied.

Gods, how she wanted to kiss those lips. Touch those arms. Squeeze those buns. Eugh, Zelda knew she was being creepy, but there was nothing wrong with fantasising, right? If she were braver, she'd ask the Sheikah out loud if she super wanted to make out, but-

"Yes."

"Eh?" she said intelligently.

"I...want to," Paya repeated, her face turning red.

"Want to what?" Zelda asked.

Paya shifted uncomfortably, suddenly unable to meet Zelda's gaze with her own. "Um...I want to...super make out...with you."

Oh.

Oh!

Oh fuck, she'd said that out loud, hadn't she?

"Y-Yes," Paya said. "I-If you don't want to-"

Zelda's body moved without her mind's input as she rushed forward, crushing her lips against Paya's, taking them both off balance and sending them sprawling into the back seat of the van. The electric door activated automatically and shut behind them.

That was a sign, Zelda decided, as was the moaning whimper from Paya and the way she squirmed eagerly under her.

Lunch could wait.


	9. Chapter 9

As far as Link was concerned, he had no sister. There really was no other recourse after this sudden but (in hindsight) inevitable betrayal. If Zelda had honestly been going out for supplies to feed the starving-looking models, he could have forgiven her, but Link had seen the look in her eyes. She was on the prowl, and she was going to have Paya, no matter the cost.

The only comfort he could take from it all was that she'd likely strike out. Zelda had no game whatsoever, and the prey she did manage to snag mostly let themselves get caught out of pity. Paya was far too classy to let herself get drawn in the by the likes of Link's sist—er, acquaintance.

There certainly wasn't any comfort to be found inside her office, where he was being sized up by about ten pairs of red eyes whose owners were already figuring out which cuts would be best.

Quads and glutes, most likely. Thighs and ass.

Man, he must have been hungry himself if this was what was going through his mind.

Well, it had to. Otherwise he'd start wondering about what kind of boyfriend Ishida had, and that was just a bad road to go down. He'd hated the guy up until a little while ago—it was far too early for heartbreak! This was the sort of thing he'd lament later in a bar somewhere with Saria and a large bottle of something unpronounceable that burned the inner lining of his throat off on the way down.

(And many other drinks, most with little umbrellas in them).

"Right," Kafei said, coughing to clear his recently punched throat. "Not game time, then."

"Seriously," Ishida said, growling. "Who the fuck forgets to call a caterer?"

"Hardly the first time it's happened," Rena said, making herself comfortable on one of the couches, her stomach growling loudly. "I'm going into hibernation. Wake me when the sustenance arrives."

And promptly fell asleep.

Out like a light.

It was honestly amazing to see. Only problem was, it left Link alone with the least sympathetic of the Sheikah. Ishida was like a yo-yo in temperament and Link never knew where he had him. Kafei was a wildcard at best, and definitely not to be trusted. Kiro...Link wasn't sure about Kiro yet. Kafei's minions, on the other hand, was an army of gremlins that he had no desire to cross on any day.

"She's been busy lately," Link said weakly, feeling a need to defend the person formerly known as his sister. "Something was bound to slip through."

He neglected to mention that, on average, Zelda forgot two out of ten things at any given moment. Usually, these were harmless things, but occasionally they were...less harmless things. Like double booking herself. Or forgetting to feed her clients.

Ishida stared at him with an uncomprehending look, his face screwing up in an attempt at expressing something, but he evidently failed to settle on one singular mood, whirling around to face his cousin.

"This is your fault!" he said, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You could have picked a big, professional photographing firm, but no, you went with the cheapest, didn't you?!"

Kafei looked affronted, gasping. "Excuse me?! I'll have you know these guys' fees are, like, way higher than some of the other companies I considered! And they took the best damned photos out of anyone!"

"Of my panties!" Ishida shrieked.

The room fell silent, and Link felt dread creeping up on him as Ishida's face went blank. He slowly, painfully turned to face Link again.

"Of...my...panties..." he repeated haltingly, voice turning to ice.

Oh no, Link thought. Not again!

"Mister Hyrule," Kafei interrupted before Ishida could make another volcano impression. "Don't you keep any food around the office? Snack bars and the like? I'm sorry, but my cousin is a grouch on the best of days, and when I've starved him like I have in the past week he is...well, _that_ ," he vaguely motioned in Ishida's direction.

Link looked around Zelda's office. Kafei's guess was as good as his. He had no doubt Zelda kept a tiny stash of something around here, but Hylia knew where. She'd always been so creative with her hiding spots, especially when they were kids and she hid her treats from Link.

That time she'd pried open one of the air vents and hid her chocolate inside was a stroke of genius.

Their dad hadn't been so amused, though, when a heatwave caused them to melt and made the house smell like caramel crunch for about two weeks.

"Uh, maybe?" he said.

"You don't know?" Ishida asked icily. Link felt sorry for his poor boyfriend who had to deal with such rapidly changing moods. Not that Link would handle it any worse, but—no, no, no, stop it!

"I don't spend a lot of time here," Link said, shrugging. "I'm usually out on assignments."

"Assignments?" Kiro asked. "Where?"

"Usually out of town," Link replied, and it actually wasn't a lie. "Zelda takes care of most of the jobs here."

"But you covered the show at the gallery," Kafei said, his eyes straying over to Zelda's desk.

"She wasn't feeling well that day," Link said, definitely lying this time. "I had to cover for her."

"Hmph, typical," Ishida said, walking around in little circles, as if hoping it would stave off his obvious hunger.

"Mind if we take a look?" Kafei asked, his eyes not even Link now. "See what we find?"

Link didn't like the look on the designer's face. It was a little too hungry, and not the physical kind. "I'll handle that, you just...control your people," he said, trying to be diplomatic.

"I'll show you control," Ishida muttered as he began to rifle through one of the boxes the Sheikah had brought. "Seriously, not even a candy bar or _anything_?" he muttered.

"No one cheats at Shinobi, Sheik, you know this!" Kafei said, giving Link a pleading look.

Needing no further incentive (anything to placate the rapidly boiling over Ishida—and not just because Link wondered if Ishida was cute when he ate), Link headed over to Zelda's desk and began to look through the contents. The desktop was still a disaster, though he could see that _someone_ had made an attempt to organise things a little...far too neatly for it to have been Zelda. Paya, then, likely, overcome by the need to bring _some_ order to the chaos.

Bless her, she'd soon learn what a mess Zelda truly was.

There were a lot of things on the desktop, but no food. He then looked through the drawers. No food, just a lot of fashion magazines with lots of sticky notes attached to them. Some were professional, with notes and question marks regarding the photographs. Others were...lewd. One was particularly interested in a model doing the split's flexibility.

He slammed the drawer shut, blushing. He and Zelda were close, but he did not feel the need to cross _that_ particular boundary. Bad enough that she always needled him about his type. He never told her, but he certainly learned hers through her actions. Any girl with a pulse, it turned out.

Her standards were low, but she aimed high, bless her.

Link glanced at the filing cabinets. Promising, but doubtful. Even Zelda knew not to store food with important client information and photo samples.

Or so he hoped.

He opened the last drawer of her desk, finding it inexplicably...orderly? Office supplies—pens, scissors, a roll of tape, a nice little stack of sticky notes, even a box of paperclips, all arranged in perfect order, not an inch of space wasted.

Link raised an eyebrow.

Suspicious.

He poked some of the objects, finding them perfectly normal. Huh, maybe his sister had actually learned the importance of a non-chaotic supply drawer at least. He was about to close it, still suspicious, when he noticed something.

The drawer...wasn't it a little...shallower, than the others? He moved the supplies a little and rapped a knuckle on the metal bottom. It rang hollow.

Huh.

He rearranged the supplies and found, underneath the sticky notes, a little slit in the metal, just big enough to fit his fingernail into.

He pulled, and out popped the false bottom of the drawer, revealing a treasure trove of...snack cake wrappers.

Great, Link thoughts. Figures she hasn't resupplied after the preparations for this job.

He made to put the lid back in...but then he spotted it. An unopened, untouched, unspoiled maple bar. Warmth flooded his entire system at the sight of it, relief flooding his veins. It was like finding the gods...only better!

Except...there was only one.

He didn't really think about that before he'd pulled it out of the drawer and realised the entire room had gone silent. He turned around and found every focused on him.

Or, rather, the bar.

"Please tell me," Kafei said slowly, "that there's an entire box of those in there."

Link swallowed, moving his hand around, fascinated as eighteen red eyes followed the movements. "Um...there's just the one," he said nervously.

"Are you going to claim it?" Kiro asked, face intense.

Link _was_ a little hungry, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was to _claim_ the maple bar, as Kiro had put it. He shook his head, vocal cords refusing to cooperate.

"Well, girls and boys," Kafei said, "you know the drill. Mister Hyrule, I'd like to ask you to toss it into the air."

Link blinked. "Eh?"

"Toss the bar into the air, and step back," Kafei repeated. "Or you're liable to get hurt."

Link felt compelled to obey, and did so, tossing the bar into the air, aiming for the middle of the room.

The reaction was instant, and a giant furball erupted as every Sheikah threw themselves at the bar, snarling and growling at each other as they fought over the morsel. Hair was pulled, ribs jabbed, cheeks hooked. There was no rhyme or reason to the fighting at all, it was just a vicious, vicious life or death battle over the fucking thing.

And there, in the centre of it, was Ishida, looking like a cross between an angry god of war and a pissed-off kitten as he fought his way towards the maple bar lying on the floor. Wigs were snatched. Someone grabbed at his arm, but he simply made a pivot-like movement that sent them flying over his shoulder, hitting the carpeted floor with a loud _oof_.

One of Kafei's minions was within reach of the maple bar, his fingers nearly grasping it. Ishida lashed out and jabbed the poor guy right in his solar plexus, which sent him to the floor, curled up in a foetal position. Ishida then callously sent him rolling away with a well-positioned shove of his foot and tripping up anyone else within reach.

"Mine!" Kafei snarled, pushing one of his minions aside with his shoulder, but Ishida was ahead of him, the younger cousin's hand gripping the elder's. "Don't even think about it, Sheik!" Kafei snarled.

"What, this?" Ishida asked innocently before doing... _something_. The movement was too fast for link's eyes to follow, but in one moment Kafei and Ishida were standing—and in the next Kafei was on the floor, groaning with his arms trapped beneath his chest in what could only be a highly painful position.

Link could only watch with wonder as Ishida fended off each and every one of his fellow Sheikah, leaving them groaning on the floor or nursing battle wounds in the corner, glaring at him as he triumphantly grabbed the maple bar off the floor.

"Anyone dispute my claim?" he asked, receiving only a chorus of pained groans (and a loud snore from Rena) before grinning and ripping through the wrapper to devour the bar like he'd been starving.

Which, to be fair, he had been.

Link felt his chest go tight at the sight. Dishevelled and messy, his clothes rumpled and hair in disarray as one of the braids had come loose, Ishida looked _stunning_. Even missing one of his sandals (which had gone flying at one point during the fray), he looked absolutely incredible.

Gobbling up (or annihilating, really) the bar, Ishida looked and sounded like a gremlin, honestly, and yet Link found himself inexplicably attracted to the bastard.

Which was bad.

Because Ishida was an ass.

And wasn't single.

Not that it stopped Link's body from warming up at the sight of him, an idiot smile growing on his face (he felt the skin of his cheeks stretching), nor a certain southern part of him from finding this extremely interesting—

Oh gods, no!

Ishida caught his eye, and the Sheikah grinned. "What, first time you've seen a food fight?"

Bloody hell, how could someone go from asshole to gorgeous and back so quickly? And why did it have to confuse Link so much?!

"N-never seen one like that," Link said, trying to turn his body a little to the side to hide his situation. "Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom."

He missed Ishida's scowl.

And his pursuit.


	10. Chapter 10

Sheik's enjoyment of his victory in the Great Battle for the Maple Bar was short-lived, as he watched Hyrule stalk back into the office's restroom. The triumph he'd felt was quickly sucked away by the gnawing of impatience and irritation, his gaze focused on the blonde's shoulders, bristling with annoyance at his polite overture being rebuffed.

What was this guy's deal? He changed moods quicker than Kafei lost braincells, and Sheik had no idea how to handle it. And why did he keep going back to the damned bathroom all the time?

The first option was the most obvious—the bastard was furiously masturbating to a room full of models. Disgusting, and deeply, _deeply_ unprofessional.

Or second, maybe he was in the throes of gastrointestinal distress. Sheik could sympathise with that, but still...ew.

Or third, he was _hiding_. And frankly, that was the worst option of all, because what the hell was he hiding _from_? His job? The models? Kafei? _Sheik_?!

Given how quickly he'd returned the first time, the third option looked more and more likely. But nothing was for certain, and Sheik _hated_ uncertainty.

He wanted—no, he _needed_ answers!

Carefully stepping over the groaning, prone bodies of his family and clanmates (except for Kafei's—Sheik made sure to dig his _geta_ firmly into his back), he marched over to the restroom door.

"Hey!" he shouted, knocking on the door. "Hyrule!"

There was no response. He growled and hammered on the door so hard the little _WC_ sign started flapping.

"Hyrule! Open the door!"

"Does privacy mean nothing to you?" the photographer's muffled voice asked from the other side, sounding supremely annoyed.

Good, Sheik could work with that.

"Not when you're doing unspeakable things to yourself in there!" he replied. "Open the door!"

"Why?!"

"Because I want answers!"

The lock clicked and the door opened a crack, an angry, blue eye glaring back at him. "What answers?" Hyrule hissed.

"What your problem is, for one," Sheik hissed right back. "And why you keep hiding in here like some sort of pervert."

"I'm not _hiding_ ," Hyrule growled. "I just needed a little privacy."

Sheik opened his mouth.

"Not for _that_!" Hyrule added.

What further proof could Sheik possibly need, honestly? This called for a victory cry.

"I needed a break, okay?!" Hyrule said.

"From what?" Sheik asked, raising an eyebrow. "What could you possibly need a break from?"

"You!"

Sheik paused. "Me?" he said, feeling like the skin of his forehead was about to rip from the combination of the make-up caking it and the movement of the muscles beneath, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "The hell are you talking about?"

Hyrule sighed. "This really isn't the right place for this talk," he muttered, making to close to the door, but Sheik managed to wedge the edge of his _geta_ into the opening. "Stop that!"

"You don't run from confrontation," Sheik said, recalling one of Impa's many lectures. "You face it. What's the problem, Hyrule? And will you open the damn door? You look like a fucking trapdoor spider, lurking like that!"

This really wasn't how Sheik imagined this day would go. By now he should be face-deep in a buffet somewhere, desperately replenishing the precious calories he'd lost thanks to Kafei's insane dietary regimen, happy to finally leave all this modelling crap behind him.

But no, instead he was trying to coax a photographer who'd been behaving suspiciously all day out of a bathroom, using a wooden sandal as a doorstopper.

And he was still fucking hungry, damn it!

Ah, but yelling maybe wasn't the way to go at the moment.

"Look," he said quietly, deliberately lowering his voice, thinking maybe Hyrule would respond better to a soft volume, like a skittish animal. "I'll admit I could have behaved...differently earlier, but can you blame me? Neither of us are happy about this shoot, but the good thing is that we'll never have to be in the same room again after it. So...let's just finish, all right?"

He wouldn't say it out loud, but it hadn't been _all_ bad, either. Earlier, when it had just been him and Hyrule working through the solo pictures of Sheik, it had almost been...fun? Hyrule had been nothing but professional then. Why was it so hard for him to do so now?

"Not sure..." Hyrule said, mumbling the last part under his breath.

"Eh?" Sheik said, turning his head. "Speak up!"

Hyrule shook his head. Sheik growled.

"Fuck's sake, man, just spit it out or I'll burn this office to the ground!"

"I said I'm not sure I never want to see you again!" Hyrule snarled back, glaring from his hideout like a hermit crab. All he lacked were the pincers.

"That's why I said we should just do this and get it over with and—wait, what?"

Sheik's ears caught up with his brain in the middle of the sentence, his entire train of thought not so much grinding to a halt as derailing entirely and killing everyone onboard.

Did he just say...?

"Oh?" said the slimy, degenerate voice of a madman as Kafei sidled up to them, putting a hand on Sheik's bare shoulder, grinning like the devil himself come to personally collect souls. "Are we finally making some interpersonal headway? Are we, dare I say it, close to kissing and making up?"

Hyrule's expression turned to stone, his spirit clearly leaving his earthly vessel, his grip on the door slackening. Sheik, on the other hand, rounded on his cousin, the fire blazing in the pit of his stomach once more.

"What the fuck are you talking about, you idiot?!" he shrieked. "There'll be no kissing here! And another thing—"

"Ah, well, then you force me to take drastic measures," Kafei said happily, reaching behind Sheik to rip the bathroom door open, shoving Sheik bodily through the opening. His back crashed into Hyrule's still empty shell and they both lost their balance, falling.

The last thing Sheik saw was Kafei's silhouette and his crimson eyes flashing menacingly before he shut the door.

They landed in a pile on the bathroom floor, arms and legs tangled. Sheik cursed under his breath, maybe accidentally elbowing Hyrule gently in the gut (the wheeze certainly suggested his aim had been true) to finally extricate himself from the heap.

Outside, there was the muffled sound of Kafei shouting instructions about pulling something in front of something, and that of something heavy scraping along carpet.

"I'm gonna kill him," Sheik muttered, taking a moment to make sure his clothes hadn't ripped, then wondering why he bothered when it was all Kafei's work anyway. If anything, he should be ruining the creations in retaliation for this ridiculousness. He spared the fallen Hyrule no mind as he rushed for the door, pulling down on the handle and pushing.

The door didn't budge.

Sheik blinked. Surely the door had opened _into_ the office? He tried pulling.

Once more the door refused to move.

"You have to push," Hyrule's still wheezy voice said from the floor.

"I'm not stupid!" Sheik exclaimed, trying to push again. This time, the door moved minutely, and then stopped, like something was blocking it.

What the hell?!

"Kafei!" he shouted. "Open this door, now!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sheik, can't hear you!" Kafei the Liar's muffled voice replied. "There appears to have been a logistical incident, and now Rena's couch has been placed in front of the door! Very unfortunate! But don't worry, we'll have ourselves a meeting and figure out the best way to tackle this situation. We'll also search for more food...and maybe some industry secrets, who knows! In the meantime, why don't you and Hyrule take the chance to get to know each other a little better and bury the hatchet, yeah? Great, see you in a bit!"

"Kafei!" Sheik shouted. "Kafei! Get back here right now you bastard!"

There was no answer, only more voices and the sounds of an office being torn apart in the search for sustenance.

Traitors, all of them! They'd regret this, Sheik would make damn sure of that! He'd call Paya and she'd come and fix this clusterfuck! He reached into his pocket...

Or rather the one that he usually had, on accounting of wearing _pants_ , rather than a kimono that, because Kafei was the worst person to ever exist, _did not have pockets_!

His phone was still in his jeans, outside!

At least the bathroom had nice acoustics, letting his long tirade of expletives ring out and echo over and over again, his throat burning from the strain towards the end as he leaned against the bathroom door, glaring up at the fluorescent bulb that lit the admittedly spacious room.

There was a single toilet, a sink, a huge roll of paper towels, and one of those hand dryers that sounded like it was perpetually disappointed in you and every single one of your life choices. Problem was, there was a lot of empty space between each and every single one of these articles.

And a groaning Hylian lying in the middle of the floor, still looking half-dead.

"I didn't elbow you _that_ hard," Sheik growled. "Get up."

"No, I think I'll stay here," Hyrule said, staring up at the light. "Less chance of physical injury that way."

Sheik reigned himself in. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? But if there's anyone you should be mad at right now, it's Kafei! He's locked us in here!"

Hyrule sighed and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Is he prone to stunts like this?" he asked.

"He's the bane of my existence," Sheik said.

"So yes," Hyrule muttered, looking up at Sheik from the floor, crossing his legs, seemingly making himself comfortable. "Do you mind if I feed him to the wolves once we're out of here?"

"Go ahead," Sheik said, shrugging. "I'll even help you."

Exhaustion was rapidly setting in—the energy from the maple bar quickly burned off in the outburst, and Sheik was starting to feel a little shaky, to be honest. And sitting down right now felt like a good idea, so he let himself slide along the door until he, too, was sitting on cold bathroom tiles. Fucking kimono did _nothing_ to insulate. He suppressed the shiver.

Wouldn't do to look weak in front of Hyrule, the last person on the planet Sheik wanted to be stuck in a small room with. At least this strange, flaky weirdo he turned into whenever he wasn't manning a camera and ordering Sheik around.

Sheik could at least _work_ with that Hyrule.

This one, he had no idea how to handle. Especially not in the wake of what he'd said just before Kafei had decided to be his usual interfering self.

That said, Sheik wanted answers. Which meant he had to ask questions.

"What did you mean?" he asked, bringing Hyrule's attention back from wherever it had gone.

"Hm?" Hyrule said, having the audacity to look confused.

"Before," Sheik clarified through gritted teeth, fingernails scrabbling smoothly over the tiles, like claws. "You said you weren't sure you'd never want to see me again. What does that even mean?"

Hyrule's cheeks grew a little red at that, the rest of his face taking on a slightly green pallor. "Uh, I misspoke."

"Bullshit," Sheik said sharply, easily seeing through Hyrule's extremely poor poker face. "I can read you like an open book."

Hyrule stared. "...wouldn't you know the answer already, then?" he asked.

It was a good thing there wasn't anything Sheik could use as a blunt instrument in here (not even a toilet brush), because things would not have ended well for Hyrule if there were. Sheik breathed in, forcing himself not to react as he usually would.

"Are you always this infuriating to talk to?" he asked, wondering how this person could possibly be the same guy who'd been so commanding during the shoot. From dominant to cry-baby at the drop of a hat.

Hyrule crossed his arms petulantly. "I don't try to be. I guess being around people just brings it out in me. I can't stand it."

Sheik paused. Huh, that was an actual answer. Took him a moment to realise it, though, thanks to the way Hyrule's chest and arms were straining against the struggling fabric of his T-shirt. He certainly didn't skip upper body day.

Shaking his head, Sheik focused on the answer, realising it only led to more questions. "Why even work in fashion, then?" he asked. "Surely it's one of the most people-centric professions there are."

"I _don't_ work in fashion," Hyrule said, nodding.

Sheik stared at him for a long moment, mulling over the answer, turning it this way and that in his head, trying to find some angle he was missing, some way of interpreting it in a way that actually made sense.

He failed miserably. "What the hell are you talking about?" he spat. "Of course you work in fashion! You're doing it right now!"

"Not as a steady gig," Hyrule clarified, rolling his eyes.

The nerve of this asshole!

"What, pray tell," Sheik said slowly, " _is_ your 'steady gig', then?"

If the answer was anything but "amnesia ward patient", Sheik was going to scream. He'd also accept "obtuse idiot".

"I'm a photographer," Hyrule said.

Sheik screamed.

"Nature and wildlife photographer!" Hyrule shouted. "Not fashion photographer! I'm only doing this as a favour to Zelda!"

Sheik stopped screaming.

"What?" he asked eloquently.

"I'm a nature and wildlife photographer," Hyrule repeated, rubbing his eyes again, suddenly looking exhausted. He leaned back against the toilet, regarding Sheik with narrowed eyes. "This is about as far out of my comfort zone as I could possibly get, but Zelda asked me very nicely and I couldn't say no, especially not since your cousin specifically asked for me."

Sheik wasn't sure if he'd slipped into an alternate reality or some other dimensional anomaly. Well, it certainly explained a few things about Hyrule's behaviour. His wolf T-shirt, for one, as only a person raised by wolves could possibly think it was an appropriate piece of clothing to wear in public.

Not to mention his awkwardness at the beginning of the shoot. And during the shoot. Most of the time Sheik had spent with him, honestly.

Wait.

Kafei had what?

Before he could ask, however, Hyrule continued to speak.

"The show was supposed to be a one-off," he said with another weary sigh. "But apparently the pics I took were so good that Kafei wanted more, and so Zelda roped me into this." He ran his fingers through his hair, giving it a ruffled appearance that was unfairly good-looking. Really, there ought to be a law against wearing tight T-shirts.

Sheik shook his head. "So, you're really not in fashion?" he asked.

"Really not," Hyrule confirmed. "This is the last thing I want to be doing with my time. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing."

"Based on what people said about the pictures you took, that's not true," Sheik said, breathing out. So the guy was weird because he was completely out of his element, not because he was purposefully being an eccentric perv. That was...oddly reassuring. "Everyone said how much they loved them."

Sheik wouldn't know how they'd turned out, having refused to look, but everyone's reactions had been raving, both about the photos themselves and Sheik's outfit.

That was as far as Sheik acknowledged the positive feedback. He couldn't handle anything else.

"So Zelda kept telling me too, but I didn't believe her," Hyrule said, frowning. "Or that your cousin loved them so much. I can take pictures of a beautiful mountain in all kinds of conditions and follow a flock of animals for hours or days just to get a perfect snap. Tell me to photograph a person and I'm useless."

"But...you seemed so in control, earlier," Sheik said. "When it was just you and me. You were so...forceful. Commanding. You were like a professional! And again, the pictures you took were good!"

"Purely incidental," Hyrule said with a chuckle. "And...well...you're a good model."

Now it was Sheik's turn to sigh. Well, if they were being honest...

"I'm not," he said, meeting Hyrule's blue eyes steadily when he looked up. "A model, I mean."

Hyrule took to his new role of Confused Photographer #1 with great skill, raising an eyebrow in a perfect imitation of Sheik's gesture. "Huh?"

"I'm not a model!" Sheik repeated with a growl. He forced himself to douse the fire that started to burn in the pit of his stomach again. "I was roped into this by Kafei. I wasn't supposed to be on that runway—Kiro was, but he got sick, so I had to fill in for him."

"Huh..." Hyrule said.

"Yeah, I know what you're thinking," Sheik muttered. "Explains it all, doesn't it? Why I can't do shit."

"Only your reason for being so uncomfortable in front of a camera," Hyrule said, nodding to himself. "As far as I knew you were just a regular model with a very short fuse."

"I'd rather have a short fuse than drool like a dog at a guy in panties!"

The Hylian's face erupted in a full-on blush at that, his eyes quickly finding the floor very interesting. Sheik maybe slightly regretted saying it in such an abrupt manner, but...damn it, raised by wolves or not, there was decorum to be upheld!

"You're right," Hyrule said, nodding, still looking at the floor. "That was gross of me, and I'm sorry. I just...I didn't expect to see someone so beautiful on the catwalk that day." His face could have lit up the bathroom on its own at this point.

Sheik wondered what he had ever done to deserve being put in this situation—sure, he wasn't the best person in the world, but surely he hadn't done anything to deserve a punishment like _this_?! And now this...this unfairly fit fraud was calling him the B word!

"No need to be nasty," he said weakly, glaring at the Hylian.

"I'm not?" Hyrule said, confused. "You really were beautiful." He shook his head. "Are. But that doesn't give me the right to drool. Or anything else, really, so I'm sorry. Truly sorry."

"Yeah, well...just don't do it again!" Sheik's stomach roiled at the mention of the B word once more. He couldn't take it. Couldn't stand it.

"I won't!"

"Good!" Sheik paused. "And please tell me you weren't about to come in here for a...a...you know..."

He couldn't even finish the sentence. It was too horrible to put into words.

Was there even any blood left anywhere else in Hyrule's body by now? His face looked fit to burst from the amount that had decided to rush to his head as he shook it like a madman.

"No, no, no!" he exclaimed. "Definitely not!"

"Then what the hell were you coming in here for, then?!" Sheik grimaced. "You don't have IBS, do you?"

The Hylian grimaced as well. "No! I was coming in here to sulk!"

"Over what?!"

"You not being single!"

The world, and everything on it, stopped moving. Sheik felt every beat of his heart, the rush of blood through his veins, his lungs expanding and contracting with each breath as he desperately searched his brain for the moment where he'd apparently gotten together with someone without noticing.

He wondered who it was...

"Wait, what? I'm not single?" Sheik said.

"You're not," Hyrule confirmed.

"Since when?"

"How should I know?"

"Hang on, hang on," Sheik said, looking wildly around the room. "Who the hell told you I was seeing someone?"

"Your cousin!"

"Which one?!"

"Kafei!"

Sheik carefully pinched the bridge of his nose. The headache was already there, but it was a grounding action, so he still did it. "Kafei," he said slowly and deliberately, "told you I was seeing someone?"

Hyrule looked uncertain. "Well..." he trailed off.

"Well?"

"He didn't tell me as much as he announced it to the whole room."

Sheik quickly spooled through his most recent memories, looking for the moment Hyrule was describing. He couldn't find it anywhere, unless it was...oh...

The phone incident.

"I am going to murder Kafei," Sheik said, standing up—his ass was about to freeze—to pace around the small area of the bathroom that was his. The _geta_ clacked against the tile. "He is, without a doubt, the ultimate source of chaos in my life."

"Um..." Hyrule said. "Are you—?"

"I'm not seeing anyone," Sheik said, crossing his arms as well, glaring down at Hyrule. "Kafei was fucking with me."

"O-Oh," Hyrule said. Sheik tried not to notice the way his eyes lit up a little. Frankly, this entire situation was too ridiculous to be tolerated, and he wasn't sure what he'd do if Hyrule didn't stop looking so damned happy.

Or cute.

Fuck, his eyes were bright.

"Um..."

Oh fuck, here it came. Sheik could see it a mile off. Hyrule was about to ask him out—why else would he have sulked about Sheik not being single?—and he was going to have to turn him down in the damned bathroom and everything would be so fucking awkward and—

"What _is_ your day job?"

For the second time in a very short interval Sheik's train of thought was derailed again.

"Huh?"

"You said you're not a model," Hyrule said, the luminescent blush on his face finally seeming to fade. He stood up, evidently finding the floor uncomfortable as well. "What do you do?"

Had Sheik misunderstood? Misinterpreted the whole thing? He scrambled to summon an answer.

Outside, the sounds of chaos coming from the office grew painfully loud. There were the unmistakeable sounds of filing cabinets being opened and close, as well as a wail of despair that sounded very much like Kiro.

"I'm...uh...I'm a judo instructor."

He usually said it with pride, but it came out very doubting this time. Damn Hyrule and his train-derailing words.

The Hylian's eyes lit up even more, a huge grin coming to his face. "That's so cool!" he exclaimed. "Have you been doing it long?"

"I've been...doing judo since I was a kid," Sheik said weakly, his world tilting even more.

"That explains the muscles!"

"The what?"

Hyrule hesitated. "Um...I was noticing that you're...pretty fit. Muscled. In a way models don't tend to be. I mean if you do judo you get a lot of exercise right which is why you're so strong!"

Alas, the blush did not remain gone for long, and even made an appearance on Sheik's face if the heat in his cheeks was anything to judge by.

"I...er...I didn't mean to..." Hyrule trailed off. "Anyway! Since you were a kid, huh?!"

Grasping the lifeline like...well, like his life depended on it, Sheik forged forward. "Yeah! But I've only recently gotten my own dojo!"

"That's amazing!"

"Thank you!"

They stared at each other, eyes wide open, faces burning. They were standing close. Close enough for them to not need to be shouting at each other. A little too close.

When had they gotten this close? A single step, and they'd be close enough to...to...

Hyrule's shirt really was too tight. Indecent at best. Sheik felt half-tempted to tear it off to see just what the bastard looked like underneath, but...wait, what the hell was he thinking?! An hour ago, Sheik had been ready to snap Hyrule's spine over his knee, and now he was thinking about...about...

Hyrule's face was still covered in an incandescent blush, his hands twitching at his sides. Was he...was he going to...?

"Are you always this angry?"

Sheik froze. "Wh-What?"

Hyrule shuffled awkwardly, aborting his approach apparently. Just as well. Sheik wasn't sure he'd be able to say no, honestly.

"Sorry, it's just...you know...you keep shouting so much."

Sheik opened his mouth, filling his lungs with the required amount of air for a good shriek, catching himself just before letting it out.

He _had_ been shouting a lot lately, hadn't he? His throat was a little sore from the effort. Kafei had that effect on him—every time the purple-haired devil popped up in Sheik's life, his scream quotient increased manyfold. It didn't help that people kept feeling the need to make comments about Sheik's appearance. He didn't need or want to know what they thought—he wasn't out to impress anyone, fashion model or not.

He'd only done this as a favour to Kafei in the first place.

"I'm not used to...this," Sheik said, barely realising his mouth was even moving before it was too late to take it back, gesturing to the kimono he was wearing. "People judging me for my looks. I don't like it. So I...snap. Maybe a little too much." He looked away, glaring at the white tiles of the wall. "You...bore the brunt of it today, even if you occasionally deserved it," he continued. "I'm sorry."

Hyrule stared at him, a little slack jawed. The blush remained.

Sheik's treacherous heart gave a little skip. Hyrule was honestly too attractive for his own good, even when one knew he owned and proudly wore one of those wolf T-shirts.

Outside, Kafei let out a triumphant yell. "Bingo!" he shouted. "Contact info to all the photographers and big fashion houses! Kiro, stop blubbering and take notes!"

Kiro's voice wailed quietly, audible even through the door.

That seemed to snap Hyrule out of his daze, his eyes focusing on the door behind Sheik. "What is your cousin doing out there?"

"Stealing your sister's business secrets, I imagine," Sheik said with a shrug. "He's shameless like that."

Hyrule groaned. "She's going to kill me for this," he said, running his hands through his hair again in frustration.

"If it's any comfort, I'll gladly kill Kafei to avenge you," Sheik offered, to which Hyrule snorted a laugh. It was a little charming. "I'm serious," he added, wanting to see if he could a little bigger smile on the idiot's face, "he's been overdue for an assassination for years now."

Hyrule's full-on laugh was incredibly pleasant, even bouncing off the bathroom walls.

* * *

Link's life had been a rollercoaster that day, and while he thought maybe he'd been done with the worst loop-de-loops when lunchtime approached and he'd managed to establish a somewhat working relationship with Ishida, he realised he'd been very wrong.

For one thing, he'd not expected to live through the experience of being trapped inside the bathroom with the red-eyed man, especially given the atmosphere they'd started with.

Or be seized by the incredible urge to kiss him in the fluorescent lighting of Zelda's office bathroom, but here he was.

Thank Hylia he'd managed to stop himself before giving in to the urge—he highly doubted Ishida would've appreciated it so soon after Link kind of cleared his name. Ishida's blushing face and vulnerable expression, along with the way he'd leaned in a little, suggested maybe he wasn't entirely opposed to the idea, but Link wasn't about to push.

Even if he was so fucking elated to learn Ishida was single after all.

Emotions still ran high, though, and Link suspected it had a great deal to do with the fact they were both absolutely starving. Ishida's maple bar had likely not done much to sate him, and this conversation had taken a lot out of them both.

And now Ishida's cousin was tearing Zelda's office apart, stealing her secrets. At this point it was tempting to just sit down and cry a little bit, but he didn't want to make himself appear even _more_ pathetic in front of Ishida.

The gorgeous judo-teaching bastard that he was.

And currently wearing an obscenely attractive outfit. Any other time Link wouldn't be so annoyed about being trapped in a small room with someone, but now...

He groaned. This was the last time he did Zelda any favours, regardless of fees or special television privileges. He gave Ishida a sour look. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Fucking finally," Ishida muttered.

They both put their shoulders to the door, Link keeping the handle in the open position, and pushed. The door didn't budge.

"Okay," Ishida said. "On three, yeah? One, two, three!"

Success! The door slid open a little, the couch that had been pulled in front of the door shifting slightly as its leg slid along the carpet. Rena's snores, now a great deal louder due to the open door, continued peacefully.

"Heavy sleeper?" Link asked.

"She's got a finely tuned snooze function," Ishida said in a deadpan. "Can literally fall asleep whenever and wherever."

"Impressive," Link said. "One more time. One, two, three!"

The couch slid further now, and they were finally able to squeeze through the small wedge of open space they'd managed to create, emerging into a room of chaos.

Kafei, having not noticed the ruckus of the couch being moved, was wrist-deep in Zelda's papers, greedily photographing every name, phone number and email address he could find with his phone, cackling to himself.

Kiro, on the other hand, was sitting in a broken heap in front of Zelda's filing cabinet, crying. And not just a little either—his entire frame was wracked with heavy, deep, ugly sobs. A truly broken man, if Link had ever seen one.

Kafei's minions had separated into two groups, apparently deeply divided on an issue Link had no idea what meant. Jabots, whatever they were, brought out strong emotions, it seemed. He was fairly certain he could see more than one brandished blade as the groups regarded each other with what could only be described as sheer hatred.

Low blood sugar was a big fucking deal to the Sheikah, Link suspected.

Rena continued to sleep on the couch, oblivious to it all.

"I'll handle Kafei," Ishida said, pushing past Link in a very authoritative manner. "You find out why Kiro is crying like someone just stole his firstborn." He gave Link no time to argue as he immediately launched himself at his cousin with an angry shout. "Keep your sticky fingers to yourself!"

There was a tussle. A fairly violent one. Link felt obligated to help, but Ishida seemed to be on top of things, having caught his cousin by surprise. Instead, Link made his way towards the blubbering Kiro, giving the cousins a wide berth.

"What's wrong?" he asked, feeling a little bad at the way Kiro startled, practically jumping from the floor, before pointing a shaky finger to the open drawer of the filing cabinet.

Behind them, the fragile diplomatic conference between the jabot armies finally broke, and a fight broke out. Link didn't dare turn around. He wasn't sure his sanity was equipped to deal with it.

Keep calm, carry on.

That was his motto for the moment, and he kept the full force of his attention on the open drawer, standing on his tiptoes and looking inside.

Honestly, if it weren't for Ishida, Link would've sat down and cried right beside Kiro.

Zelda was a food hoarder. Not a strange thing in itself. Her problem, however, was that she sometimes forgot _where_ she'd hoarded it. In this case, some sort of sandwich had been left inside the cabinet.

For some time.

An eon, Link suspected, judging by the sheer number of _things_ growing in there. The smell was...inimitable. There were no words for it. Slowly, as to not upset the fragile-looking pulsating pustules, he closed the drawer.

A biohazard clean-up crew ought to be called in for this one, in his opinion. The cabinet would likely have to be incinerated. Zelda would just have to write it off as an operating loss.

Turning to Kiro, he helped the devastated model sit down in Zelda's office chair, away from the still-ongoing duel between Ishida and Kafei, patting Kiro on the shoulder.

"It's all right," he said. "It can't hurt you."

"It's...it's _alive_ ," Kiro said with horror, his face green. "How is it alive?!"

"My sister can work miracles," Link said. "You should see what she can do with a packet of yeast."

Kiro shuddered.

"Give it back!" Kafei, now a crumbled heap on the floor, wailed, and Link looked up to see Ishida emerging triumphantly from the furball, Kafei's phone held aloft like the head of an enemy general. He looked even more dishevelled now, the god of war look coming through even more now. Link tried not to drool again.

Something he'd always had to be on guard against around Ishida, apparently.

"Impa taught you better than to commit industrial espionage without proper authorisation," Ishida growled, tapping his finger against the screen. He caught Link's eye. "I'm deleting the photos he took."

Kafei wailed again.

"Thanks," Link said, grinning. "Zelda would never forgive me if she knew someone had gone through her stuff." He also silently thanked Hylia for his sister being so disorganised that she'd never know that the pile of crap on her desk had even disturbed.

He'd likely pay for the stolen maple bar, though, but he was willing to endure it.

He'd gotten to see Ishida fight like a wildcat for it, after all, and then devour it like he was starving.

"And stop using my baby picture as your wallpaper!" Ishida snapped, tossing Kafei's phone back to him.

"Never," Kafei hissed. "It's my most precious picture of you."

Link tried to catch a glimpse, but the phone was quickly stashed into Kafei's pocket, away from prying eyes and fingers.

"Jabots will never go out of style, you heathen!" a minion shouted, just as he was about to impale his enemy on an umbrella.

"Stop living in the past, you damned relic!" she responded, about to strangle him with a garter.

Just as Link was about to maybe see if he could get them to stop trying to kill each other over clothes, the office door slammed open, revealing what appeared to be a walking pile of white plastic bags with the logo of a nearby buffet Zelda had taken Link to a sometimes.

The smell of food immediately permeated the air, banishing even the memory of the filing sandwich from Link's senses. It made his mouth immediately fill with saliva (refreshing that Ishida wasn't the cause for once). The hostilities in the room immediately ceased, every eye in the room zeroing in on the bags. From her couch, Rena opened her eyes and sat up, immediately awake and alert.

The pile of bags shifted, revealing that they were in fact being carried by the tall, buff Sheikah security guard and Zelda.

"Looks like we arrived just in time," Zelda said lightly, while Paya's eyes narrowed at the state of her kith and kin.

She said something in their tongue, the words sharp and filled with disappointment. The effect on Kafei, Ishida, and the others was clear, all of them looking a little ashamed.

Well, Ishida wasn't too ashamed, judging by the way the corner of his mouth curled up a little. Link barely noticed, though, his own hunger making its ugly, ugly appearance with a loud growl.

"Sorry we're late," Zelda said brightly as she and Paya entered the office fully, shutting the door behind them. "You wouldn't believe the line at the buffet. We managed to clean it out, though, so hopefully you'll forgive us."

Link tore his gaze away from the bags of food to regard his sister with suspicion. She was far too happy for this to have been a simple food run. He scanned her face, and then her neck and...well, wouldn't you know it.

Covered in hickeys.

As was Paya's, though she'd done her best to cover them up with the collar of her shirt.

The fucking nerve of these two.

Before he could point out the clear waste of time they'd been up to, however, the dam broke and a wave of hungry Sheikah descended upon the two of them, sweeping Link along with it.

He'd bonk Zelda on the head later. Right now, there was a big box of dumplings with his name on it.

Unless he had to fight Ishida for it, which looked very likely given how they both reached for it at the same time.

Before the conflict could brew, however, Kafei snapped it up out of nowhere, cackling wildly.

"Share?" Ishida suggested.

"Share," Link agreed.

They charged their enemy together.

Kafei never stood a chance.

* * *

"Consider yourself on horny probation," Link hissed at Zelda as she grovelled at his feet, apologising profusely for leaving Link to deal with the hungry Sheikah on his own. It was far from a genuine apology, but at this point he needed _some_ sort of acknowledgement from his sister that she'd fucked up.

"I couldn't help it," she said, staring at the carpeted floor. "You didn't see her ass when she bent over."

Brazen and wanton—Link wondered how the hell the two of them had turned out so differently given they were raised in the same household, by the same person. Their father would be ashamed to witness his daughter's conduct.

At the other end of the office, the Sheikah were packing up their supplies and equipment. It was amazing, how they'd immediately calmed upon getting fed. Well, for the most part. The jabot disagreement went deeper than what some noodles could fix, but Paya kept the parties from descending into another battle as they'd finished the shoot.

"Also, you've sown the seeds of life in your filing cabinet," Link said, not wanting Zelda to explain her inability to keep her hands off Paya any further. "Only fire will cleanse it."

"My sandwich?" Zelda asked, eyes widening. "I _knew_ I'd left it somewhere!"

Behind her, carrying a box, Kiro looked ready to cry again. Link could only give him an apologetic look.

"Well, that's about it for us," Kafei said, sidling over, nearly masking the limp Ishida had left him with. "Thank you so much for your hospitality and wonderful work, miss and mister Hyrule."

Amazing how professional he could act, despite being a rotten gremlin to his very core. Link still shook his hand.

"It was a pleasure," Zelda said brightly. "I'm sorry about the lunch mishap, though."

"Oh, it was nothing we couldn't handle," Kafei replied with a chuckle, as if the fucking Apocalypse hadn't nearly happened. "Tempers ran a little high but it was nothing we couldn't handle."

Lies.

Blatant lies.

"I appreciate the confidence in choosing us for your photos," Zelda said, taking his hand in both of hers. "Do feel free to recommend us to other houses."

"Absolutely," Kafei said, giving Link a wink. "Now, I'd like to handle the payment issue immediately, if you don't mind."

"Oh, of course, come right this way, I'll make you an invoice."

Zelda led Kafei to her desk, where they began to work on some sort of software. Paya was called over after a few minutes as an intense, hushed discussion erupted between them. Link watched them for a moment, not daring to walk over himself, especially not when Paya smacked Kafei upside the head.

"No, you cannot add sandwich PTSD treatment for Kiro as a business expense," Paya hissed.

"Do you have any idea how expensive therapists are?!"

Link let the ensuing argument fade into the background as he caught sight of Ishida talking with Rena as they ladened a minion's arms with the last couple of boxes, sending them struggling towards the door. Ishida's eyes caught Link's, and he gave Rena a smile and a nod as she excused herself, gently leading the now sobbing Kiro away.

"He'll recover," Ishida said. "I think." He was dressed in jeans and a hoodie now. While Link dearly missed the asymmetrical kimono, it was still a very good look for him.

Then again, Ishida probably looked great in anything and nothing.

Especially nothing.

No, no, bad brain, stop!

"Poor guy," Link said, trying very hard to ignore the way his hear had sped up the moment Ishida had come closer, and the way his body heated up...and his sweaty palms. "Uh...sorry again, for...well, everything."

"It's fine, Hyrule," Ishida said. "We've...both said and done things we're not proud of today."

"Link, please."

"Hm?"

"My name is Link," Link said. "Hyrule makes me sound like an enemy."

"You were, up until earlier this afternoon," Ishida said with a grin that threatened to make Link's knees wobble. "But fine...and I guess it's only proper for you to call me Sheik, Link."

"Sheik," Link said, trying it out. It was altogether too pleasant to say. Just like hearing Sheik saying his name.

The idea struck him then (hah, as if he hadn't been thinking about it since the moment Ish—Sheik had told him he was single). Taking a deep breath, looking Sheik straight in the eye, he opened his mouth—

"..."

Nothing came out.

Link tried again.

"Hhhh..."

Sheik looked confused. "Is something the matter?"

This was why Link didn't dabble in romance. His brain just shut down whenever the subject came up. In the corner of his vision, he spotted Zelda giving him a silent thumbs-up.

Fuck it.

"D-Do you want to go get a coffee or something sometime?" he asked, slurring half the words because his tongue had gone into overdrive. He might also have shouted the words, causing Sheik to take a step back, eyes wide in surprise.

Well, it was out there now. Link couldn't take it back. He could only hope and pray to Hylia that Sheik would say—

"No."

His world came crashing down around him. He'd never recover from this. This was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Link decided right then and there that he'd pack his bags, ride Epona into the mountains, and become a hermit. It was the only way he could continue to live after this embarrassment.

"I mean..."

Link looked up from his mental planning, noticing Sheik having a sly look on his face.

"I don't really date guys I don't know," the Sheikah said, his voice confident but his cheeks colouring. "So how about a deal?"

"A...A deal?" Link asked.

"Yeah," Sheik said, reaching into his wallet and pulling out a business card with a Sheikah eye logo on it. "This is my dojo. Come by tomorrow after five."

Wait, did he mean...?

"I still owe you for the upskirt photos," Sheik said, cheeks still red. "Fight me, and then we'll see."

Link realised he must have had it bad for this guy, because he didn't even think twice before agreeing and pocketing the business card. Didn't even remember that he had in no way any sort of fighting training or experience and had just said yes to meeting a damned _instructor_ in the ring.

Zelda had no problems reminding him of this fact later that night, though.

But Link didn't care.

If he got a chance at a date with Sheik, he'd gladly risk life and limb.

"Right, five it is," Sheik replied. "See you tomorrow, then."

"See you," Link said, watching Sheik leave the office, grabbing Kafei by the scruff of his neck and dragging him out as he wailed over the very long invoice Zelda had printed out.

He then caught sight of Zelda and Paya, er, saying their goodbyes as it were.

Forget horny probation; Zelda was going to horny jail!


	11. Final Chapter

Sheik almost felt a little bad when he saw Hyrule—er, Link emerging from the men's locker room of his dojo, dressed in a borrowed white-belted _gi_ that, admittedly, looked pretty damned good on him.

The photographer's active lifestyle had left him with a frame that was far from lacking. Not that Sheik had any doubt of that given the T-shirt Link had worn the day before, but it was nice to get some additional confirmation.

No, Sheik had _not_ been imagining what Link would look like in a _gi_.

At all.

The reason he felt bad was the clear nervousness that permeated the very air around Link, who looked ready to bolt at any second as he came further into the dojo, glancing at the blinds Sheik had lowered in front of the glass window, preventing anyone from looking in.

"How's it fit?" he asked as Link stepped onto the padded mat, bare toes curling a little at the feel of it.

"Good, I think," Link replied, patting himself down uncertainly. "I don't really know what to look for in a well-fitting...er..."

" _Gi_ ," Sheik supplied helpfully.

"Right, that."

Sheik stepped closer to him, looking him up and down with the precision of a master tailor. He definitely wasn't just taking the sight of Link in. "How does it feel to move around in it?" he asked. "Do you feel it restricting your limbs?"

"Uh..."

Gods above, the man was so nervous Sheik could taste it. It was a little cute, honestly. It was like Link thought Sheik was going to kill him. He stood in front of Link and dropped into a basic ready pose.

"Stand like this," he instructed, watching as Link did his best to mimic the pose. It was...passable.

Sheik could already tell that technique wasn't going to be his biggest obstacle when facing the photographer. It was definitely going to be weight and mass. Not that it gave him leave to relax.

"Now, do you feel the _gi_ constricting you in any way? Try moving your arms around, try taking long steps."

Link did as he was told, doing all kinds of ridiculous flailing with his limbs. "Feels okay," he finally said, looking back to Sheik. His face looked a little green.

"Good," Sheik said, clapping his hands and stepping back so they were on opposite sides of the ring. "Have you ever done judo before?" he asked.

"No," Link said, shaking his head.

"Any other martial art?"

Another shake.

"Ever...fought anyone?"

Yet another shake.

"Right, well, there's usually some rules in practice fights that need to be upheld, but since you've no experience I'll let you do whatever you feel like, while I myself will not break them. Sound good?"

"Is that really fair?" Link asked. "I mean, we should both follow the rules—"

"I have a lot more experience, Link," Sheik said, pointing at him. "If anything, this fight is already skewed in my favour, so I'll gladly give you a little handicap. Remember, though, this is a form of wrestling, so no punches or kicks, got it?"

Link didn't look convinced, but eventually nodded. "Okay," he said. "So...how are we doing this?"

"Well, first we have to warm up," Sheik said. "I'll take you through some exercises for that. Then we spar."

"And how does that work?"

Sheik paused. He hadn't really given it any thought. He'd been half-joking the night before when saying he wouldn't date anyone without fighting them first, but now...well, he wasn't about to just roll over.

"How about this," he said, "you pin me on the mat once, you win."

"Once?" Link asked. "Are you sure?"

"You'll be lucky to manage it, so why not?" Sheik said with a shrug. Fuck, it felt so good to be in charge of a situation he had no problems handling. "But if you don't manage to pin me even once..."

He left the threat hanging. Link gulped visibly, shoulders sagging a bit. However, a moment later he let out a sharp breath and steeled himself, looking determined.

Fucking cute.

Sheik felt like he was about to trounce a puppy.

Funny, how one's perception of someone could change so quickly. Up until last night Sheik had imagined Link to be a horndog. Now he was just an itty-bitty puppy in need of guidance.

Gods, Sheik felt a little pathetic.

Maybe I should hold back a little, he thought. Give him an actual chance.

"Don't hold back on me," Link said, apparently having become a mind reader in the last couple of minutes. "I can you see you thinking about it." That determined gaze met Sheik's, Link's brow knitting in concentration. "I'll win fair and square, or not at all."

"You realise if you lose there's no coffee," Sheik said.

"A risk I'm willing to take," the Hylian replied.

Well then, Sheik thought, colour me impressed.

And a little weak-kneed, he realised. Link Hyrule's face of bravery was a sight to behold, for certain.

How was this guy single, again?

Oh, right, the drooling.

"R-Right," Sheik said, clearing his throat. "Let's warm up, shall we? Follow my lead."

He took them through the basic warmup exercises he always did with his classes. It was all about getting the muscles warm and limbered up in order to handle the sixty minutes of pummelling they were in for. Link's stamina was nothing to scoff at, easily keeping up with Sheik and not getting too winded.

Climbing mountains was probably hard work in itself.

Sheik wondered if it translated to other activities as well.

"Okay, I think that does it for the warmup," Sheik said once they were finished with the last exercise, panting a little. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be, I guess," Link said.

"One last thing before we start," Sheik said. "The sign of giving up—a _waitta_ —is two taps on whatever you can reach, whether it's me or the mat. You give up when you've been subjected to a pin, stranglehold, or other hold that you either can't counter or endure. Remember, if it hurts, you give up. I don't want to accidentally injure you."

"Two taps, got it," Link said. "You'll do the same, right?"

"If it happens, sure," Sheik said with a haughty tone that in no way was befitting a teacher, but...well, he felt like he deserved to be a little smug given the events of the day before.

Then again, a teacher would never challenge a complete newbie to a spar right away, so maybe right now Sheik shouldn't consider himself a teacher at all. Meaning no guilt.

Yeah, that sounded good. He just had to ignore what every nerve in his body told him and shove away the mental images of what Impa would do to him for challenging someone to such an unfair fight over something so inconsequential as a coffee date.

Well, inconsequential to her, maybe. It'd be Sheik's first date of any sort, so what did she know?

"Okay, enough stalling," he said, forcing himself out of the reverie he'd fallen into. "Technically, we're supposed to bow to each other before even setting foot on the mat, but we'll dispense with that for now. We'll just bow right here, right now."

He led Link through a deep, respectful bow, and then stepped closer until they were in proper reach.

"Remember," he told the Hylian, "no punching, no kicking. Other than that, go hog wild."

"So, eye-gouging is allowed?" Link said with a crooked, nervous grin.

"I'd appreciate it if you refrained from it," Sheik said dryly. "If only to spare yourself the pain of being hunted down by Kafei and Paya for hurting me."

"Duly noted."

"Right," Sheik said, falling into his default pose. "Let's begin!"

He started out strong. Link seemed to barely realise Sheik was moving before the photographer found himself landing on his back on the mat, air forced out of his lungs from the impact. This was followed by his arm being pulled in a direction it definitely wasn't supposed to go, and he gave a yelp, tapping several times on the mat with his free hand.

Sheik let go, stepping back. "You okay?" he asked.

"Uh...yeah...I think...so," Link said, panting. "You're fast."

Sheik ignored how happy the compliment made him. "Thanks," he said. "It helps to be able to surprise the opponent with speed. Take your time," he added when Link already made to stand up. "We've got all night."

"Given that start...I think I'll...need it," Link said, slowly rising to his feet. He then tried to assume the same pose that Sheik had. It wasn't perfect, but it was a definite improvement. Far better weight distribution.

"That's good," Sheik said. "Angle your back foot a little more to the right...much better. Feel how much steadier you're standing now?"

"I think so," Link said.

"I won't be able to get you off your feet so easily this time."

"You swept me off my feet already, though," Link said, even adding a very unconfident wink.

It was a terrible line, and an even worse gesture, but it struck home all the same. Sheik's chest clenched, his cheeks heating up from something else entirely than the exercise.

How dare he?!

"Distractions aren't going to work, you know," he said weakly as they lined up on the mat again. "Come on!"

Link was definitely steadier on his feet this time, but apart from that there wasn't much he could do in the face of Sheik's technique. This time, Sheik hooked his ankle around Link's and, indeed, swept his foot out from under him, sending the photographer crashing to floor, pinning him down with chokehold.

Another _waitta_ echoed in the dojo.

"If you plan on pinning me," Sheik told him as they lined up for the third time, "you have to get more aggressive. Instead of waiting for me to move, catch me by surprise."

Link nodded, eyes hyper-focused.

And the Hylian _was_ the first to move this time, charging at Sheik and attempting to bowl him over, grabbing him around his waist and refusing to let go. With his weight, it was only Sheik's stance that kept him from falling. And unfortunately, that weight worked against Link when Sheik shifted his balance and used his momentum to direct their fall to the mat.

His forearm cut off Link's air supply.

Only a _waitta_ restored the airflow.

Sheik's cheeks had cooled by now, but the image of the wink had burned itself into his retinae, apparently. And now he also had to force himself not to obsess with just how _solid_ Link felt. Everywhere he'd touched him.

I really should take up mountain climbing, Sheik thought as they got ready for the fourth time.

"Again," Sheik said. "Come on!"

To Link's credit, he was a quick learner. He only needed to be downed by the same move a few times before learning to, if not exactly counter it, at least find a way of resisting it. Sheik added a few comments here and there where he saw room for improvement (but not outright telling him what to do).

After all, Sheik wasn't going to roll over and just let Link walk over him. This was partially a night of payback.

For some time, the only sounds in the dojo were that of their heavy breathing, groans of pain (all from Link), and bodies hitting the mat. Sheik too was panting by now, actually having to put in some effort to keep Link from taking him down, as the Hylian was slowly learning to put his superior weight where it was needed, using it to his advantage.

But it didn't make up for Sheik's years and years of experience, and Link still found himself on the mat, being pinned in some manner at the end of every match.

But the matches _were_ taking longer, and Sheik was nothing if not impressed by that.

Link glared at him from across the mat, face flushed and a bead of sweat running down his cheek. His hair was growing darker with sweat, a few locks plastered to his temples.

It was a gorgeous sight, plain and simple.

Would it be rude to give Link a signup-sheet once they were done?

Link continued to learn, and even got dangerously close to pinning Sheik once when he managed to get his hands around Sheik's middle, getting behind him, and doing a fucking _suplex_. It caught Sheik by surprise so badly that he needed a moment to take in what had happened, and Link had wasted no time trying to pin him down.

The feeling of having Link lying on top of him was...well, he'd have to examine that closer later.

(It was definitely going to make an appearance in his dreams that night, he suspected.)

Of course, Link's pin wasn't difficult at all to counter, Sheik slipping out from beneath him and catching the Hylian's elbow in a pincer-grip, easily capable of breaking the joint entirely if he so wished.

The _waitta_ had a distinct angry air about it this time. Frustration embodied in two slaps against rubber.

"You're getting better," Sheik said.

"Hmph," Link grunted. "Come on."

Oh-ho, he was getting angry now. Sheik loved it.

Link's frustration only continued to grow as he was brought down again and again, Sheik _maybe_ putting on airs that it wasn't much of a challenge between each match. He wanted to see what Link would do at the peak of his rage.

What would he do when he finally managed to pin Sheik? Sheik could only imagine what it would feel like to be under him then, with those burning blue eyes staring down at him, and...and...

Oh no, these were bad thoughts to have during a match. Sheik couldn't afford losing precious blood to his southern parts at this stage.

(Plus, it'd be really awkward to explain.)

Unfortunately, Sheik failed to realise how much of a toll these matches were taking on Link. Sheik was used to optimising his moves to conserve as much stamina he could, while Link went at him with all he had in every match.

His energy would run out sooner or later, and he was starting to decline very quickly now.

He took longer to get up after each bout, was panting hard all the time now, and didn't have the patience for chitchat.

The anger was fading, and his movements grew lethargic. It didn't take much effort to take him down, and Sheik was honestly starting to feel like he was just bullying the puppy now.

Worst of all was the look of determination that was rapidly fading and getting replaced with despair. Link was starting get discouraged.

This wasn't really what Sheik had had in mind.

"That's it," Link said panting after having been taken down for the...well, Sheik had lost count of which time this was. "I give...up. Defeat...accepted."

"Already?" Sheik said, also panting but still rising to his feet. He glanced at the clock on the wall. They'd been at it for nearly an hour. It was honestly impressive. "Come on, don't you want that date?"

"I...do..." Link panted. "Can't...win it...sorry to waste...your time..."

Sheik would've thought he was joking if it weren't for the miserable look on the Hylian's face. Fuck, this wasn't how it was supposed to go at all! Sheik cursed his love for competition, realising he had to do something so Link wouldn't get the wrong idea.

"One last match," he said. "Come on."

"I'm...done..." Link said.

"The hell you are," Sheik growled. "You owe me one last match."

"How...so?"

"Consider it repayment for the drooling," he said, needling Link for what he intended to be the last time as a plan formed in his head. "I'll properly forgive you forever if you give me one last bout. Come on, Hyrule, wipe the slate clean."

Link groaned and slowly clambered to his feet, giving Sheik a sceptical look. "I don't think I'm much...competition right now," he said.

"Gives me the pleasure of kicking your ass so totally it'll echo through space and time," Sheik said smugly, hands on his hips. "Come on."

"Fine," Link said.

Sheik even held back, interested to see what Link would do in his current exhausted state. It turned out to be a lumbering charge that, if it had succeeded, would've buried Sheik under a very sweaty, very solid mountain.

Sheik had other plans, though.

With a simple feint, Link's bulk went past, easily letting Sheik sweep his legs once more, landing the Hylian on his back for the last time that night.

But that was where the similarity with previous bouts ended, as Sheik clambered on top of him, pinning Link's lower body with his own, and trapping the Hylian's hands by the wrists, their faces ending up inches apart, hot breaths washing over each other with each exhale.

This was forward. Far more forward than Sheik had ever intended. Had ever been. His face was definitely burning with embarrassment now, but he hadn't figured out a better way of letting Link know of his...interest.

"You suck at this," he told Link, staring into the Hylian's eyes. Link had gone silent, eyes wide as he stared back up at him.

"S-Sorry?" Link said.

"It's okay," Sheik said, lowering his face a little further. Less than an inch separated their faces now. "I didn't expect you to win."

"D-Does this...does this mean...?" Link asked.

"Yeah, it does," Sheik said. "You're taking me out for coffee."

He didn't give Link time to answer, letting their lips meet in a hot, clumsy, oxygen-deprived kiss that lasted far too long and far too short at the same time. At some point Sheik's eyes had closed, and when he opened them as they separated from the kiss, he realised just how lovely Link looked like this—face red and sweaty, hair all dishevelled, pupils completely blown out, trapped beneath and completely at his mercy.

He dove in for a second kiss and Link was only happy to respond in kind, his hands breaking free form Sheik's hold to cup his cheeks gently. It felt like heaven.

They withdrew once more, and Link managed to draw enough breath to say, shakily:

"Didn't...expect this tonight..."

Sheik chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back, more or less straddling Link now, looking down at him. "Neither did I, but you forced me to improvise when you started looking so miserable."

"I thought I'd lost my chance," Link admitted. "You're good at this."

"Yeah, well—"

"Sheik! This is _not_ a proper use for a dojo!" an exaggerated, outraged voice shouted. A voice that was all too familiar.

Stomach plunging, Sheik's head slowly turned towards the source, finding Kafei standing near the entrance of the dojo, the spare set of keys dangling from one of his hands (where had he even gotten those?!), his phone in the other. The little light beside the camera glowed red.

Sheik's entire vision turned red at the sight.

"I just came to drop off a copy of the paperwork for the shoot," Kafei said happily, staring at his phone screen, still recording. "Didn't expect such prime blackmail material. Come on, you two. Give me a big smile!"

"Kafei—"Sheik managed to growl.

"Oh, hey, you know who I bet would appreciate this footage?" Kafei asked with a huge, shit-eating grin on his face. "Sidon, that Zora model you talked to the other night!"

Sheik was surprised to hear another voice besides his own shout "No!" at the same time, looking surprised down at Link.

Huh, this was clearly something they had to work out.

"Come on, you two," Kafei continued, still grinning. "Give me a big smile!"

"Link," Sheik said.

"Sheik?" the Hylian replied, voice just as tense.

"Want to help me kill my cousin?"

"Gladly."

There was a lot of screaming in the dojo that night.

* * *

**The End**

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
> And so the idiots manage to stumble their way into the goal once more.  
>  I hope you enjoyed this story, and that you're well and staying safe!**
> 
> **Till next time!**
> 
> **-Andy  
> **

**Author's Note:**

> **  
> More of our favourite idiots!**
> 
> **I hope everyone is staying safe in these uncertain times!  
> **


End file.
